May You Rescue Wretched Beings
by Tripetta
Summary: 'Replacement Killers' sequel. It's a year after the events of the film. Meg Coburn catches wind of a contract on John Lee and his family, prompting her to travel to China to warn him. FINISHED.
1. Chapter One

Title: May You Rescue Wretched Beings  
  
Author: Tripetta tripetta@aol.com  
  
Summary: Replacement Killers sequel. It's a year after the events of the film. Meg Coburn catches wind of a contract on John Lee and his family, prompting her to travel to China to warn him.  
  
Disclaimer: 'The Replacement Killers' universe doesn't belong to me. Columbia/Tri-Star Pictures holds that privilege. I penned this story for love of the movie and characters and am making nada moolah from it. Please don't sue for it would be a fruitless endeavor. Trust me.  
  
Authors Note: I've been an admirer of fan fiction and their authors for years, but never dared submit my own works. In this case I made an exception. I have yet to find a 'Replacement Killers' story anywhere on the internet, so I made up my own. What can I say? I'm a sucker for soul mates torn apart by outside circumstances. Someone has to throw them back together for a second chance.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. An artist lives for recognition. Me. An artist. I'm laughing now. Seriously;)  
  
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"May you rescue wretched beings, ceaselessly tormented  
  
By the fierce push of unbearably vicious evolutionary acts,  
  
Prevent the horrors of their dread diseases, wars, and famines,  
  
And restore their spirits in your ocean of bliss and happiness!"  
  
  
  
-Prayer of the Word of Truth, by His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Meg Coburn adjusted her short black wig in the ladies room of Beijing Capital International Airport. Adding a layer of plum gloss to her lips and eyedrops to the ice blue contacts in her eyes, she stepped back to take in her reflection. Three hours from L.A. to Vancouver, an hour and a half layover, and another thirteen hours to Beijing had played havoc with her disguise. She fluffed her ivory blouse, straightened her charcoal gray blazer, and smoothed the matching knee length skirt. Just a little ol' American businesswoman closing a merger, she thought, making doe eyes at the mirror. Replacing the gloss and eyedrops into her large black tote bag, her fingers brushed a strip of photographic paper. Three vertical wallet size portrait pictures, all of the same man. She examined the stern and solemn countenance, the last picture showing a sad expression, eyes closed. Oddly enough, it was her favorite. So human. So John. Three pictures were the only physical reminders she had of John Lee. Well, that and a left knee that tended to go gimpy in cold weather. It was a good thing Los Angeles rarely got cold.  
  
Meg started as the door opened behind her and a young mother with a wailing baby entered the bathroom. She mentally shook herself, thrust the photos into the depths of the bag, reshouldered her black leather knapsack and garment bag, and exited before the door fully closed behind the other woman.  
  
As she approached the customs booths, she drew her traveling pouch from around her neck, where it had been hidden by her blouse, and pulled out her passport and L-Visa. The customs official did little more than give her a cursory glance before stamping her passport and handing it back. Well, that was easy, Meg thought. She had heard Beijing airport customs was somewhat casual about foreigners, especially those in typical American business fare, but it never hurt to be vigilant. Relying on heresay could get you killed.  
  
Meg replaced her passport and L-Visa in the pouch and then dropped it back under her shirt. Rule number one - NEVER lose your passport in a foreign country. Especially if it's forged.  
  
Carrying only the tote bag, garment bag, and knapsack, she bypassed baggage claim and stepped out of the Arrivals terminal, heading toward a line of taxis at the curb. Choosing the closest, she opened the door and slid in the backseat. She would've preferred a rental car, but foreigners weren't allowed to drive in China unless they had residence certificates and then obtained a Chinese drivers license.  
  
"Wo yao qu fandian . . . Movenpick," Meg told the driver after a hesitation. She had told him she wanted to go to the Movenpick Hotel. She didn't know what Movenpick was in mandarin chinese, but since it was the closest hotel to the airport, it had to be a common destination. The driver apparently understood since he nodded enthusiastically and pulled away from the curb. She sighed and sat back in the seat, thankful she'd picked up that crash course language tape at an LAX gift shop before take off.  
  
After being dropped at the hotel, she entered the lobby and approached the front desk.  
  
"I have a reservation for Ann Thompson," she told the older Chinese gentleman in english. Most hotels catering to foreign clientele had employees who spoke several languages. The desk clerk exchanged polite pleasantries while he confirmed her reservation and activated her key card. He handed it over along with a pen and credit card form for her to sign. She hadn't been sure how long this trip would last, so her reservation was for two days. If she needed more, she would extend it. Actually, if she needed longer than that, she was probably in trouble and wouldn't be needing a hotel room anyway. She penned Ann Thompson's signature, thrust her copy of the bill into her bag, and headed for the elevators.  
  
Letting herself into her room on the second floor, she dropped her bags on the bed and checked the door to make sure it was locked and latched. She then headed to the bathroom, shedding clothes along the way. She was dead tired, having been awake for over twenty-four hours. A frantic, chaos filled twenty-four hours. She would've preferred going straight to sleep, but had to wash off the travel grime first. Feeling immensely better after her shower, she crawled into bed and fell almost immediately asleep.  
  
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The next morning, Meg woke famished. She ordered room service, asking that a travel guide and city map be sent up with her food. There had been no such paper goods at the Beijing airport and LAX seemed to have guides for every city except this one. Figured. Would've been helpful to have it to study on the interminably long journey here. Meg liked to be aware of her surroundings, have escape routes plotted, know a little geography ahead of time. After being in home turf L.A. for so long, knowing all of the people and places, she was suddenly the outsider. No connections, no inside scoop, no nothing. It was a disconcerting thought.  
  
While she waited for room service, she pulled on the wig and inserted the contacts. There was a knock at the door before she could get dressed, so she conducted the room service exchange with the door only slightly ajar. The waiter looked all of sixteen, but seemed friendly and courteous enough. His name tag read 'Son'. She didn't want to offend the young lad by subjecting him to a view of her wearing nothing but a white v-neck t-shirt. He didn't seem to mind though. In fact, she could swear he was trying to sneak a peek at her bare legs. She handed the bill back after signing it and told him to leave the tray on the floor outside her room. He looked blankly at her and motioned with the tray into her room.  
  
"No, no, no, no. Just leave it on the ground," she told him slowly, pointing at the tray and then the floor. He finally seemed to understand and set the tray down. He turned to walk away, but as soon as she leaned out to pick up the tray, he whipped back around. Never one to shrink from a confrontation, Meg stood to her full five feet, eleven inches. She hoisted the tray up above her head with one hand, cocktail waitress style, and balled the other into a fist on her cocked hip. "Enjoying the view?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Very much so," he replied in perfect english. He then laughed and spun on his heels, jogging down the hallway and out of sight.  
  
"You little shit!" Meg shouted after him. She then became aware of how underdressed and out in the open she was and slowly backed into her room. Way to keep a low profile, Meg. "Men! They're the same everywhere," she announced to the room. She put the little pervert out of her mind as she dug into her buttermilk pancakes and looked over the map.  
  
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After eating, Meg dressed in black leggings, a long sleeved red shirt, and black boots. She packed everything back up in the tote and knapsack, leaving the rest of her clothing in the garment bag in the closet. Clothes were expendable, her other items were not. If she made it back to the room tonight, she could deal with the inconvenience of unpacking again as opposed to leaving them in the room and needing them elsewhere.  
  
She slipped the travel pouch around her neck and made sure it was hidden by the high collar of her blouse. She missed the presence of her razor blade necklace, but harmless little American businesswomen didn't carry such items, much less wear them. Besides, it wouldn't have made it through LAX security anyway.  
  
Giving the room a last glance, she slipped out and headed downstairs. At the front desk, Meg had a taxi called then asked the clerk to write down her destination in Chinese. He obliged, doing so on a business card sized paper and then handing it to her. She thanked him and stepped outside to her waiting taxi.  
  
As the taxi made its way into the heart of Beijing, Meg followed along on her map, orienting herself as best she could. She had a fairly good sense of direction and distance. If she had to slink her way through alleys and back streets to make it to the hotel or even the airport, she was pretty sure she could do it.  
  
When the car came to a stop outside the Wenjin Jie Temple, Meg got a sudden case of the nerves. What was she thinking traveling halfway across the world to a foreign country, putting herself in personal jeopardy, for a man she had known all of three days over a year ago?! She knew why. And that particular knowledge didn't make her feel much better. The driver began to get impatient, not earning anything by sitting with the car idling. He started bitching at her in rapid fire chinese, using lots of hand gestures. She wasn't catching much of what he was saying, but it seemed to be somewhat derogatory.  
  
"Okay, okay. Jesus. Here!" Meg told him, throwing an indeterminate amount of RMB's his way. She slid out of the backseat and stood facing the imposing facade of the temple. Despite the movies and stereotypes, China was officially a country of atheists. Only about four percent of the population practiced religion, and of those, only about two to three percent were Buddhists. Most temples that were still standing were more tourist attractions than anything else, few of them housing monks anymore. But this place had at least one. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she walked through the entrance. 


	2. Chapter Two

Author's Note: Disclaimer et al at the beginning of the first chapter. Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 2  
  
As Meg stepped into the interior of the temple, her senses immediately took in the now familiar scent of incense and the glow of candle light. Taking a quick look around, she realized she had the place to herself for the moment. Good. She walked along the aisle, admiring the various statues and paintings lining the walls, coming finally to the huge statue of Buddha resting against the far wall. Kneeling on a pillow, she picked up a stick of incense, lit it, and brought it to her forehead with both hands. She then inserted it into the brass bowl of sand in front of Buddha. She put her hands in prayer position, palms together, arms close to her chest, and closed her eyes. She sat in prayer for some time when she heard a rustling at her side. She lifted her head to see an elderly monk with a shaven head, wrapped in an orange and gold robe, regarding her curiously.  
  
"Ni hao?" Meg asked politely, coming to her feet. The monk bowed and replied that he was fine. "Are you Soom Meng?" she inquired, deciding to come straight to the point. He looked startled.  
  
"Yes," he answered in english, a little apprehensive. Meg smiled, relieved.  
  
"Great. Listen, I need to speak with John Lee. Chien Yau sent me." This wasn't entirely true, but close enough. Something passed over the monk's face. Not exactly fear, but an emotion close to it.  
  
"Duibuqi. Wo bu dong," he stated flatly. He was sorry, he didn't understand. Yeah, right.  
  
"Look, I appreciate the fact that you're watching over him and his family, but I really need to speak with him. It's urgent." He repeated that he didn't understand. Meg sighed and wished fervently for a gun so she could scare it out of him. Then again, that might not work in this case. She tried a different tact and dug in her bag, bringing out the photographs and handing them to Soom Meng. "Please, just give this to him, he'll understand." She pressed the photos into his hand and tried to look trustworthy. No easy feat. He finally nodded and left her, disappearing into the dark recesses of the temple.  
  
She returned to her spot in front of the statue and sort of zoned out until she heard a soft "Meg" behind her. She turned quickly and rose to her feet. John Lee stood in front of her. He was wearing a black mandarin collar shirt and matching pants, the pictures in his hand. His hair was that same beautiful dark black, so black it had blue highlights. His eyes were the same intense deep brown, which at the moment were regarding her with concern and . . . pleasure, maybe? Meg was suddenly full of nervous energy, shuffling her feet and not knowing quite what to do with her hands.  
  
"Hey, John. I was just in the neighborhood, so . . ." Oh, that wasn't too lame. John simply stared at her, a small smile forming on his lips.  
  
"Somehow I doubt that." His expression then turned serious. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"  
  
"Right." She suddenly had a focus for her energy. Before she could say anything, she looked over John's shoulder at the entrance where what looked like a tourist group was just entering. "Could we talk somewhere else?" Meg asked, grabbing her bags from the floor. John nodded.  
  
"Of course. This way." He held her elbow as he guided her in the direction Soom Meng had gone earlier. A few twists and turns later, they came out into the sunshine, passing through a small but well kept and beautiful garden surrounded by high stone walls. At the end of the path through the foliage, there was a small house. John opened the door and motioned for her to enter first.  
  
Inside a small living room area, Soom Meng was sitting with a young Chinese woman wearing an outfit similar to John's but in a pale blue. She looked about twenty, lovely with long dark hair in a braid down her back. She and the monk rose when they entered. John and Meng exchanged a look and the monk left the house, presumably to head back to the temple. John gestured to the woman who stepped forward cautiously. Up close, she was very diminutive, coming only to Meg's shoulder.  
  
"Meg, this is my sister Miasu. Mia, this is Meg Coburn." The woman's face broke into a grin and she held out a hand.  
  
"You are Meg! It is an honor to meet you," Mia gushed enthusiastically in english, grabbing Meg's hand and pumping up and down.  
  
"Same here," Meg responded, smiling nervously and throwing John a bewildered look over Mia's head.  
  
"Mia," her brother intoned. "Why don't you offer our guest some tea?" Mia stopped shaking Meg's hand and with obvious effort clamped down her enthusiasm.  
  
"Would you care for tea?" she asked politely.  
  
"Tea sounds great, thanks." Mia bowed and left the room. John gestured Meg to a small couch and joined her as she sat down. "What was that all about?" Meg asked.  
  
"I have told Mia of your part in my escape. I think she has made you her . . .," John paused as he searched for the right word. "Hero." Meg burst into laughter.  
  
"You're kidding. Me? That's a new one. You know, you saved my butt at least as many times as I saved yours." John shook his head.  
  
"You would not have been in danger to begin with if not for me," he said seriously. Meg nodded, conceding his point.  
  
"Fair enough. Which reminds me, those are mine," she told him, pointing to the photographs he still held in his hand. John eyed her curiously, but handed the pictures over without comment. Meg held the photos in her hand, sweeping a finger over the surface. "You know, these are the only proof I have that you passed through my life," Meg said softly. John frowned and seemed about to comment when Mia entered the room, tea tray in hand, breaking the moment. John shifted his eyes to his sister while Meg busied herself returning the pictures to her bag. Mia set the tray on the table and poured, turning to look at Meg.  
  
"My brother said you had brown hair and eyes," she commented, handing Meg the cup she just filled. Meg's free hand went to the wig.  
  
"Oh, a wig and contacts. My disguise. Technically, Meg Coburn wasn't supposed to leave the country, so . . . I borrowed Ann Thompson's passport." Mia smiled and handed her brother a cup of tea. An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between the two. Mia lifted the tea tray and turned to Meg.  
  
"If you will excuse me, I must return to my studies." She then bowed to both and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Meg set down her tea and waited a few moments, making sure Mia was far enough away not to overhear. She then turned to face John.  
  
"There's a contract out on you and your family," she told him bluntly.  
  
"Who?" he asked.  
  
"Peter Wei's brother-in-law, if you can believe that. Rahn Koy. He came to visit his sister and nephew in LA after Terence Wei's death. Apparently liked what he saw and started taking over Wei's business, claiming family ties. Says he wants to preserve and expand for when his nephew comes of age. Yeah, right," she said, rolling her eyes and continuing seriously. "He's a real son of a bitch. Hard core, scary. But he has critics who say he should take care of loose ends, you being a major one. One of those 'debt of honor' things you guys are so fond of. Zedkov is part of the deal too, but he wasn't about to put his son through that again. He packed up the kid and ex and left for parts unknown. I hope to Christ he makes it." John absorbed this silently. Meg picked up her cup, taking a sip.  
  
"How did you come across this information?" he asked finally.  
  
"Different details from different sources," Meg told him, settling back into the sofa and crossing her legs. "Zedkov and I kept in touch, he passed me any relevant news he had from his Chinatown snitches. Well, before he split anyway. Loco gave me information from his drug contacts and gangs, although I think he used our info exchange meetings more as an opportunity to look up my skirt than anything else. And of course Chien Yau, Alan's predecessor at the temple. He's also how I found you, in case that was your next question." John appeared to think this over, then shook his head.  
  
"I can't believe Yau let you come over here alone, " he commented. Meg developed a sudden intense interest in the design on her tea cup. And John noticed. "Meg?" he questioned sternly. Meg took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  
  
"Okay, 'let' is a strong word . . ." John merely waited, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "All right, all right, Jesus, you're harsh! He doesn't even know I'm here, okay? Actually, I take that back, he's probably figured out by now that I'm not in LA anymore. In which case, I give him three guesses . . . bet he gets it on the first. I'm not exactly sure what plans he had for helping you out, he didn't go into details, but I knew I wanted to be part of it." John did not look happy.  
  
"You should not have come, Meg, you have put yourself in great danger." Meg gave an exasperated sigh and set her tea back on the table, leaning closer to him.  
  
"You think I don't know that, John? You think I didn't question my motives twenty-thousand times on that lovely fifteen and a half hour trip over here? Leaving LA, which, granted, is not the safest place on earth, but at least I knew the rules. And, trust me, I've always been one to think of my own ass first." She stopped speaking abruptly and shook her head, staring at her clasped hands before going on more slowly. "I just couldn't wait around LA to hear if you were dead or alive," she told him solemnly.  
  
John studied her bent head for a moment before setting his own tea down and rising from the couch. Meg lifted her head to follow his movements as he paced around the room, deep in thought. After at least five minutes of this, he finally stopped on the other side of the table and looked down at her. Feet apart, hands clasped in front of him, he looked exactly as he had the first time they met in her office.  
  
"What is your plan?" 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3  
  
At John's words, Meg let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and stood to face him. "I have a room at the Movenpick by the airport. We should all head back there. But first - disguises," Meg said, beginning to pace back and forth, ticking off points on her fingers. "You guys are still going to look Chinese, of course, but hopefully American-Chinese. I'll need to take your mother and sister shopping for American threads, then I'll do what I can with their hair and make-up. I brought some -"  
  
"Meg," John interrupted suddenly.  
  
"Yeah?" she asked distractedly, mind on disguise options.  
  
"It will only be Mia. Our mother is dead." Meg paused in mid-stride, then slowly made her way around the table to stand at his side. She hesitated a moment before putting a hand on his arm.  
  
"I'm so sorry, John," she told him softly. He nodded, accepting her condolences, but not looking at her. The muscles in his arm tensed under her palm and she let go.  
  
"I will get Mia," he said, turning to the door and exiting. He returned a moment later with Mia.  
  
"America?" she was saying. "Will we be returning?" Meg couldn't tell if the thought was appalling or appealing to the girl. John stole a look at Meg before answering.  
  
"We will discuss it later. Pack your belongings, but take only what is necessary. Do as Meg tells you, I have things I must do." John motioned Meg outside where they walked to the edge of the garden. She was irritated and let him know it.  
  
"What do you mean 'things you must do'? We shouldn't be separating. In fact, that is the exact opposite of what we should be doing." She would've kept going, but John put his hands on her shoulders.  
  
"Meg, there are things I must do," he repeated. "People to speak to . . . matters to attend to. If I am not coming back to China, they must be taken care of now."  
  
"Then we'll come with you," Meg insisted.  
  
"No, we will accomplish more apart. I will meet you at the hotel, what is your room number?" She wanted to argue more, but when she looked into his eyes, she realized it would be pointless. She sighed and looked away.  
  
"Two-sixteen," she told him finally, pulling the key card out of her pants pocket and holding it out to him. "In case you get there first," she elaborated. "I'll tell the front desk I lost mine and get another one."  
  
"Meg, I will be fine," he told her, letting his hands drop and taking the proffered key card. She instantly missed his touch. "Please look after Mia for me."  
  
"You know I will," she told him quietly.  
  
"I know," he replied softly. He waited a few seconds longer, but Meg made no further response. He turned and started walking away. Well, shit, I can't leave it like this. What if I never see him again? That thought was so unwelcome, she immediately kicked its ass.  
  
"Hey!" she called out after him. He turned to look at her questioningly. "Remember when I said I had a problem with you dying? I still do. So don't." She held his gaze until he nodded. He then continued on his way.  
  
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Back in the house, Meg followed the sounds of speed packing. She had a lot of experience in this area and recognized the sound. She entered a small room with a single bed, simple desk and chair, and a dresser. Books in several different languages lined much of the available shelf space.  
  
Mia had tossed what looked like the entire contents of her room onto the bed and was sorting through the pile. Meg's attention was caught by some items on top of the dresser. She stepped closer to look at two small black and white photographs, creased with age, that were propped against a bronze statue of Kwan Yin, the Buddhism Goddess of Compassion. One was identical to the photo John had carried, a much younger Mia standing next to her mother. The second was of a young man, standing ramrod straight, unsmiling and grim. Looking closer, Meg realized he looked familiar.  
  
"Mia, is this John?" Meg asked, pointing to the picture. Mia stopped packing and came to stand beside her.  
  
"Yes. That is when he went to work for Mr. Wei. I was a baby at the time, I do not remember. But our mother often spoke of it." She paused. "John was very unhappy." She went back to her packing, leaving Meg to look at the picture.  
  
"So John didn't like working for Wei?"  
  
"No. He was studying at university to become a teacher. Mr. Wei and our father served in the Chinese Army together. When our father was killed, we had no means to support ourselves. Mr. Wei offered John work, out of respect for our father. John had to leave school. Over time, Mr. Wei gave John more work, more responsibility. He was away from us for long periods, sometimes a year or more. He sent us money, made sure we were safe, but did not visit us often. I think he did not want us to see what he had become," Mia finished sadly, staring off into space.  
  
Meg was fascinated and would've liked to pursue the subject, but time wasn't really on their side. Maybe later. Definitely later.  
  
"Mia, let's finish up, we have a lot to do today." The young woman nodded, throwing some more items in her bag, then stepping back to the dresser to pick up the pictures. The sound of the front door opening and quick footsteps coming down the passage had Meg immediately tensed. She pushed Mia to the left of the door frame and stepped protectively in front of her, hand going unconsciously to the small of her back for a gun - a gun which wasn't there because she was in friggin' China! She quickly glanced around for a weapon, picking up the bronze statue of Kwan Yin from the dresser. She sent silent apologies to the lovely, compassionate goddess as she hefted the heavy object above her head.  
  
She thanked her excellent reflexes when she just managed not to bash in the skull of Soom Meng as he walked through the doorway. The poor man looked startled when he finally spotted her, weapon in hand. He recovered quickly though.  
  
"There are men in the temple, suspicious. John warned me before he left that men would come for him and Miasu." Meg dashed to the living room to grab her tote and knapsack, then back to the bedroom.  
  
"How many? Did they see you?" Meg asked as she guided Mia to the rear of the house. There had to be a back door, right?  
  
"Four. No, I do not believe so. I remained in the shadows." Meg finally found the back door and opened it, ready to push Mia through. Mia, however, had other ideas as she broke from Meg's grasp and ran to Meng to give him a hug.  
  
"Xiexie," she told him as she stood back. Thank you. He put his hands in prayer position and bowed, reciting a Buddhist blessing in Chinese.  
  
They were wasting precious seconds, but who was Meg to snub a monk's blessing? Mia turned and ran out the door. Meg gave the monk a nod before exiting herself.  
  
There was a narrow strip of grass between the rear of the house and the high stone wall, which was lined with trees. Mia was some distance to Meg's left, waving to her. Meg quickly ran over just as Mia was parting the shoulder high grass and low lying tree limbs to reveal an ancient looking thick wooden door. She then pulled an honest to goodness heavy iron skeleton key from around her neck and unlocked the door. They crossed through into the alley behind the temple grounds, turned a corner at the end, and hailed a taxi.  
  
Sitting together in the backseat, the two women sat silently, staring straight ahead. After a few moments, Meg looked over at Mia, expecting her to be at least somewhat hysterical, but she seemed perfectly calm if a little out of breath from the run. Way to go, Lee family disposition.  
  
"Let's hope," Meg finally said, "that is the only excitement we run into today." 


	4. Chapter Four

Author's Note: This chapter is a little different. I'm trying it from John's point of view. This presents difficulties on several levels. First - he's male and I'm not. Second - the character is Chinese, who are naturally reserved. And third - he's John Lee, for criminy sake! Assassin extraordinaire, tried and true loner. How do you get into the head of someone like that?! Eeek! Ah well, I did my best. As always, enjoy! And please do leave a review if you liked it. It's heartening to know that others share my love for John and Meg. A special shout out to Diane H. for her lovely letter. She inspired me to have another go at this chapter sooner than I would have.  
  
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Chapter 4  
  
While Meg and Mia were discussing his past, John was making the rounds of banks in Beijing where he held accounts. Having changed into a gray silk Armani suit, and with his height and demeanor, he made a formidable figure. At the Bank of China, Bank of East Asia, and Bank of Tokyo, he closed out his accounts, liquidating some of the balances to cash, US dollars and Chinese RMB's, and transferring the remainder to his account at Finsbury Bank and Trust on Grand Cayman. At Credit Lyonnais and Union Bank of Switzerland, he made some modifications to his accounts, leaving with the new paperwork in his briefcase. Working for Mr. Wei for twenty years had been educational as well as lucrative. John had become very good at hiding and growing money. Financial matters now taken care of, he caught a cab, still needing to visit a couple of places before heading to the hotel.  
  
As the taxi drove through the streets of Beijing, John should have taken in the sights since he would likely not be seeing them again. Instead, his thoughts were of Meg Coburn. If he was honest with himself, she was never far from his thoughts, though since his return he'd had other things to occupy his mind.  
  
Before his return to China the year before, John had been aware that his mother was ill, though not to what extent. She never alluded to it herself in the occasional letters that reached him. He was only aware of it at all from second hand reports by whomever was looking after her and Miasu at the time. The illness had worsened during those last few months he had worked for Mr. Wei.  
  
John had thought twenty years was enough time spent in Mr. Wei's service. He wanted out. To be free to return to his family, to be with his mother during her final years, to try to become acquainted with his sister after missing most of her childhood, and to return to school and continue his studies.  
  
Mr. Wei was not sympathetic, but he recognized that John's intentions of leaving were serious. He had used the threat of violence against John's family to "persuade" him to finish three final jobs. But John's mother was more fragile than anyone realized. After John failed to finish his last job, his mother and Miasu were hustled from city to city riddled with fear and worry for John and for themselves. The stress had been too great. By the time John reached them, the damage had been done. Healthcare in China, while adequate, is not good. He wanted to take his mother to Europe, or perhaps America, but she had refused to leave. China was her home and she would spend her last days there. After her death, he had focused his energy and attention on Mia. And tried to forget Meg Coburn.  
  
While not entirely inexperienced with women, his affairs had been infrequent and fleeting. It was simply a part of his life that didn't concern him a great deal. He had always been introverted and private. A loner. And the few women he met in his line of work didn't interest him. Expensive escorts, wives, sisters, daughters, and/or girlfriends of business associates were usually the extent of the women he came into contact with. Until he met Meg.  
  
From their first encounter with Mr. Wei's men, she had impressed him with her gun handling skills as well as her presence under fire. She didn't flinch, she didn't give in, and she could give as good as she got. Her humanity also drew him. While she radiated a fierce independence and preached self-preservation, she felt a deep respect for human life. Though their acquaintance was brief, he had developed a deep and abiding affection for her. And perhaps even more important, he respected her. Few people earned his respect, and even fewer kept it. He couldn't quite define the nature of their relationship, even to himself, but she had made an indelible impression.  
  
The taxi pulled up in front of the John Bull Pub in the Chaoyang District. John asked the driver to wait and stepped out, heading inside the building. The JB Pub was located in the diplomatic area and was frequented by British expatriates from the embassy who wanted an authentic homeland feel. John scanned the early dinner crowd, spotting who he was looking for. He passed the pool tables and large screen televisions showing the latest soccer match as he reached a booth in a far corner of the establishment. The booth's lone occupant rose at John's approach and held out his hand.  
  
"Andrew, thank you for meeting me," John said, taking his hand and shaking it. Andrew Stilton was currently a high ranking employee at the British Embassy, but was known in certain circles to provide special documentation for the right price. They had crossed each other's paths over the years and had come to an understanding of sorts.  
  
"Of course, John. Please join me," Andrew told him, indicating the opposite seat. After both men were seated, a waitress came over to take their drink orders. When she left, Andrew studied John across the table. "I've brought what you asked for. I was going to inquire why you needed them, but I can see now that you won't tell me."  
  
With that, Andrew slid an 8 1/2 by 11-inch manila folder over the surface of the table to John. The waitress returned with their drinks and set them down. When she was gone, John opened the folder to check the contents. Andrew lit a cigarette and took a sip of his drink, watching John in silence. Apparently satisfied, John opened his briefcase and set the folder inside. He then removed an envelope containing fifteen-hundred dollars in large American denominations and handed it to Andrew, who thumbed through the bills with practiced ease. Equally satisfied with his end of the exchange, he slid the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held out his hand again.  
  
"As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you," Andrew told him as they shook hands.  
  
"And you, Andrew," John responded, snapping his briefcase shut. He left eighty RMB next to his untouched drink, rose from the booth, and exited to his waiting taxi.  
  
While there were no areas of Beijing that were considered worse than others crime wise, there were places off the beaten track where tourists didn't frequent. The Chenxie District was one of these places. It was known among natives as somewhere to buy drugs, weapons, or just about any other illegal or illicit item. Basically the Black Market of Beijing.  
  
John found a reputable gun dealer he was familiar with and purchased some firearms. Two Beretta M92's, which he placed in a double shoulder holster under his suit jacket, two Glock 17's, a Vektor CP1, and an H&K Mark 23. Just for added protection, he also bought an H&K PDW, a Mac10 submachine gun, and enough ammunition to kill half of Beijing, if necessary. All except the Berettas were put into a padded duffel. John paid the man five- thousand in US dollars, slung the duffel's strap over his shoulder, picked up his briefcase, and hailed a taxi.  
  
  
  
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Disclaimer: While most of the places I've mentioned in this story are real, there is no Chenxie District. I made it up as well as what goes on there. It's simply a CPD (convenient plot device). 


	5. Chapter Five

Author's Note: Phew, back to Meg's point of view. Much easier! Disclaimer, etc., miscellaneous, and so on are located in Chapter One.  
  
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Chapter Five  
  
The first stop for Meg and Mia was the Holiday Inn Lido where the Gary Lewis salon was located. While the idea of the best salon being located in a hotel was an odd concept for Meg, she had discovered that many of the best and well known clubs, shops, and spas resided in hotels in Beijing.  
  
Gary already had a full schedule for the day, but when Meg pleaded a hair emergency, shoved a long locked Mia in view, and flashed a thick roll of RMB's, Gary took pity, delegating his remaining appointments to various underlings. An hour later, Mia emerged with a sleek, very short boy length cut. Gary had also added a burgundy rinse that gave her hair a violet-red tint. She looked completely different. Her fine bone structure was beautifully set off, her skin seemed to glow, and the color of her eyes looked an even darker brown. Meg was impressed. Mia stood in front of the mirror turning her head this way and that. She met Meg's eyes in the glass and smiled.  
  
"I bet your brother won't even recognize you," Meg commented. She then turned to Gary, peeled fourteen-hundred RMB's from her roll and handed them over. Seven hundred for the cut and coloring, another seven hundred as a tip. About one-hundred-seventy in US dollars. They gathered their bags and caught a cab to the Palace Hotel, which had the largest selection of European brand name clothing and accessories. Mia ended up choosing a white Gucci blouse and skirt, a Dolce & Gabbana mahogany pants and print shirt, and a pair of low heeled Fendi shoes that went with both. On the way out, Meg made sure to get her a wheeled pilot's case to use at the airport.  
  
Now weighed down with many bags, the women finally headed to the hotel. Meg had the driver park by the side entrance instead of the semi-circlular front drive.  
  
"I'm going to the front desk to get another key card, I gave John mine this morning. Wait here, I'll come open the door for you. Got it?"  
  
"Got it," Mia responded. Meg nodded, got out of the taxi, and walked around to the front door and into the lobby. She approached the front desk and gave a sob story about misplacing her key card. Another was promptly activated and handed over. Meg thanked the desk clerk and headed for the elevators, bypassed them, and made her way to the side door. The door could be pushed open from the inside by anyone, but to open it from the outside required a key card. Meg let Mia in and they took the elevator to her room.  
  
When they had settled in, Meg decided to order them room service. When she asked what Mia wanted, the girl immediately replied, "A cheeseburger!" Meg grinned, ordering them both cheeseburgers with the works, fries, and milk. Mia frowned at the mention of milk, but Meg insisted.  
  
This time, there was no excitement with the food delivery. Son had apparently gone home for the day. The ladies each took a chair at the table and started eating. Meg thought this was as good a time as any to continue their conversation about John.  
  
"So," she began, chomping on a fry, "what happened when John came home last year?" Mia looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking.  
  
"Our mother died soon after John's return. She had been sick for some time, but did not want him to know. She knew he had very much wanted to become a teacher. He could have continued his studies under a special work program at the school, but it would not have provided enough to support us all. She felt much guilt for John going to work for Mr. Wei. Her health was not good.  
  
"Just before John's return, we were quickly moved from Shanghai to Canton. The journey was very frightening, we were not told why we were being moved, only that we were in danger. John finally came to us and brought us to Beijing. When he realized how ill our mother was, he wanted to take her out of China to see a doctor. She wouldn't go. She was born in China and would die in China." Mia paused here before going on. "I believe she and John made their peace before her death."  
  
Meg put her hand over Mia's and offered her condolences. Mia gave her a sad smile. They ate in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again.  
  
"My brother thinks very highly of you," she announced. Meg froze in mid chew, not quite knowing how to respond.  
  
"Well," Meg said slowly, after swallowing her food, "I think very highly of him too." She considered Mia's statement a moment longer. "Does John not think highly of many people?" Mia shook her head.  
  
"No. You are the only one he speaks of in this way," she said seriously. Meg was intrigued.  
  
"Talks about me a lot, does he?" she asked, half joking, swirling a fry through her catsup. Mia frowned and shook her head.  
  
"No, not so much anymore. I think you make him sad." Meg nearly choked on the fry.  
  
"Me? Why?"  
  
"I don't know, it is only an impression." Before Meg could ask her to elaborate, Mia delivered another zinger. "Do you have a . . . ," she struggled to find the right word, "manfriend?" It took Meg a second to realize what she was talking about.  
  
"You mean a boyfriend?" Mia nodded. "No."  
  
"Why?" Meg frowned at her, wondering where this was going. She shrugged.  
  
"I don't know. What for? They're kind of annoying. You have to call them and talk to them and go places with them and do things together - too much hassle. Of all the men I've dated, I can honestly say I prefer my own company."  
  
"Have you dated a lot of men?" Meg looked at her quizzically, but Mia merely looked back in frank interest. She shrugged again.  
  
"I don't know. Guess it depends on your point of view. But, no, technically, I guess I haven't dated a lot of men." Mia appeared to think this over seriously. A thought suddenly struck Meg. "Do YOU have a boyfriend?" Mia had that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on her face.  
  
"You will not tell my brother?" she begged, panic stricken.  
  
"You mean John doesn't know?" Meg asked incredulously. Mia shook her head. Meg sighed and thought for a moment. "So tell me about him," she finally said. Mia realized she hadn't yet promised not to tell her brother.  
  
"His name is Liu Jian, he is a . . . drink maker at Vogue. That is a dance club. We met in the park. He is nice," Mia assured her.  
  
"How old is he?" Meg asked suspiciously.  
  
"Thirty-two," Mia finally answered after a pause. Meg only shook her head and sighed.  
  
"Oh, boy. No, I don't think I'll tell your brother, could be hazardous to your health." Mia looked relieved and worried at the same time.  
  
"I can't leave China without seeing him," Mia said earnestly. "I want to say good-bye." Meg shook her head.  
  
"Oh, no. If you want to see Liu, you'll have to tell your brother and let him decide. Don't put this all on me." With that, she stood up and began clearing the dishes and napkins. Mia sat still for a moment, then began helping. When the dishes were outside the door and their hands washed, Meg turned to Mia. "I'm gonna take a shower. It'll be a fifteen to eighteen hour trip back to L.A., depending on which flight we get. You might want to shower after me," Meg said as she gathered her clothing and toiletries. "Don't open that door unless it's John, all right?" Mia nodded mutely. Meg paused and squeezed Mia's arm. "Hey, it'll be okay." Mia nodded again. Meg continued on to the bathroom and closed the door.  
  
While Meg was showering, she thought over what Mia had said about John and wondered what it meant. She knew what she hoped it meant, of course. But what she wanted and what was weren't always the same thing. In fact, they were hardly ever in agreement. Then she thought back to the boyfriend question. It was true, Meg hadn't dated a lot of men, and the ones she did date she kept at arm's length. Ever since she'd had to run away from her last foster home when she was fourteen. Well, she didn't like to dwell on the past. It had made her who she was and that's the only credit she gave it.  
  
Meg rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her head turban style. She dressed in black dress slacks and a silk garnet dress shirt, again putting on her boots. She looked professional enough to pass unnoticed through customs, but if she had to jump, duck, and run for it, she could do that too. In with the contacts and she stepped out of the bathroom, vigorously rubbing her hair with the towel. She wanted it dry before she put on the wig. Her hands stopped in mid rub as her eye scanned the room. Something was missing. Mia. The hotel stationary pad had been thrown on the bed. Meg picked it up.  
  
"I must say good-bye to Liu," it read in Mia's precise english handwriting. "I will return before ten o'clock. Mia." Meg dropped the pad back on the bed.  
  
"Shit. John's gonna kill me." 


	6. Chapter Six

Author's Note: All pertinent info listed in the first chapter. FYI, 'Replacement Killers' has just been released as a special edition DVD! Got mine yesterday. Deleted scenes and an alternate ending. Don't want to spoil it for you, but I will say Hubba Hubba! Moving right along . . .  
  
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Chapter Six  
  
John's taxi pulled up at the Movenpick's side entrance behind another taxi. An attractive Chinese woman with short burgundy tinted hair and an expensive looking designer suit stepped out of the hotel and into the taxi. John's driver waited until the other taxi had left, then pulled up closer to the side door. John paid him and exited. At the door, he slid the key card through the reader. When the door buzzed, he opened it and proceeded down the hallway to the elevators.  
  
There was a young man in a waiter's outfit standing around. His name tag read 'Son'. His gaze had been idly resting on the door. Probably checking out the woman who had just left, John mused. The boy was now looking somewhat intently at John. When he realized he'd been caught staring, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked around the corner to the lobby. John felt mildly uneasy, though he couldn't have said why. His instincts were hammering him and they weren't often wrong. He decided he would take Meg and Mia straight to the airport from here. Having a course of action helped as the elevator went up to the second floor.  
  
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As soon as Son was around the corner, he pulled a photocopied sheet from his pocket. The picture was black and white, grainy, but clear enough. It was a picture of John, blown up from a larger picture containing Terence Wei. John had been in the background. Son knew none of this though. He only knew that a stack of these had been handed out at Freezer last night, a club he frequented. Some big shot from America was looking for him and offering more money than Son earned in a year at this dump. And the guy in the picture had just walked into Son's hotel.  
  
Son stepped behind the front desk to an unused terminal. Every key card activation was recorded in the hotel's computer. Technically he wasn't supposed to know the password into this section of the mainframe, but he'd paid attention over the manager's shoulder once. Never knew when it might come in handy. He brought up the menu and selected activations for the side door. There was only one listed for the last thirty minutes. Room two-sixteen. That sounded familiar, why? Then he remembered. The tall dark headed American woman from this morning. Pancakes, city guide, and map. Great legs. Interesting. He made a note of the room number and name, logged out, and headed into the back where the offices were located.  
  
In the empty night manager's office, he closed the door and sat at the desk. He pulled the paper out of his pocket and picked up the phone. There was a special sequence of numbers used to dial out long distance. Another hotel secret Son had pilfered. He punched in these numbers and followed with the ten digit number listed at the bottom of the picture. While the phone rang, he imagined what he would do with the money. The line picked up on the fourth ring.  
  
"Yes?" a man asked in english.  
  
"My name is Son Pham, I'm calling from Beijing. I have information about a man in a picture . . . "  
  
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Meg was busy throwing all of Mia's belongings into the pilot case when the door buzzed from a key card activation. She hoped it was either Mia or John, but wasn't taking any chances. She moved off to the side of the entryway alcove, ducked into the bathroom, and emerged quickly with a miniature courtesy bottle of hair spray. Okay, I really have to get a decent weapon while I'm here, she thought as she aimed the nozzle at eye level and tensed, waiting for the intruder to come into view. When John turned the corner, she threw the bottle on the bed and lowered her shoulders in relief.  
  
"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed. She immediately started back to packing Mia's luggage, almost hoping John wouldn't notice Mia wasn't actually there. John looked around, set his duffel bag and briefcase on the floor, and turned back to Meg.  
  
"Where is Mia?" Dammit.  
  
"She's gone," Meg replied ever so helpfully, finishing Mia's bag and zipping it shut. She grabbed her own tote bag and turned it upside down, emptying the contents onto the bed.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"To see her boyfriend," Meg told him even more helpfully, sorting through the items on the bed and choosing only the essentials to pack in her knapsack.  
  
"Boyfriend?" John felt as if he'd come into a movie halfway through and was trying to play catch up. Meg sighed and stood to face him.  
  
"She has a boyfriend. She was upset that she was leaving without saying good-bye. I told her to bring it up with you, and when I came out of the shower, she was gone." Meg picked up the note from under the debris on the bed and handed it to John. "She left this."  
  
"Liu," John said, reading the note. "Do you know anything else about him?"  
  
"Yeah." Meg hesitated, then decided what the hell. "His last name is Jian and he's a thirty-two year old bartender who works at Vogue, some dance club." John's expression darkened. "She says he's nice, she met him at the park," Meg added, trying to diffuse John's anger. It didn't seem to help. Meg went back to her packing, cinching the knapsack shut and throwing it over her shoulder. She then stood to face him again and waited. John appeared to come to a decision and grabbed her arm above the elbow.  
  
"You will go to the airport and return to Los Angeles. Now." He had practically hustled her to the door and was in the process of opening it when Meg started to get angry.  
  
"Hey, hey, HEY!" she yelled, jerking her arm out of his grasp, slamming the door shut with her foot, and turning around to glare at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"  
  
"This is no longer a simple trip from here to the airport. Miasu has gone back into Beijing and Koy's men are already there."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I contacted Chien. Koy had already sent men from Hong Kong last night and others arrived from America this morning. They will be all over the city by now trying to discover my whereabouts." Meg had to admit this wasn't the greatest news, but didn't think it warranted trying to get rid of her.  
  
"Okay, not good. But what has that got to do with my leaving? You need me more than ever." John shook his head.  
  
"It is much too dangerous for you now," he told her. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer. "Meg, you'll never know how much I appreciate that you came here to help me, but your part is done. The risk is too great for you." Meg found herself leaning into his touch, her head moving closer to his. John's expression transformed from worry to surprise to . . . something else in the space of a few seconds. His grip tightened on her shoulders. She suddenly backed away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. John dropped his hands loosely to his sides and looked sharply away from her.  
  
"John," Meg said, waiting until he lifted his head before continuing. "I realize we didn't spend a lot of time together in L.A., but I've always been one for quality over quantity. I think you got a pretty good dose of my personality. So let me ask you this - do you really think I'm going to leave?" John didn't say anything, just looked at her. "I didn't think so."  
  
John lifted the duffel onto the bed, dug through its depths, and brought out the Vektor CP1 and an extra clip. He handed them wordlessly to Meg, then picked up the phone and asked the front desk for a taxi to Vogue. Meg smiled at the gun, slipped it into the waistband of her pants at the small of her back, and the clip into her pocket. She grabbed her three-quarter length black leather coat from the closet and put it on, effectively concealing the gun. The knapsack went over her shoulder and she set Mia's pilot case on the floor, pulling the handle out to wheel behind her. The rest of her belongings had just turned disposable.  
  
John reshouldered the duffel and picked up his briefcase. Meg made a quick trip to the bathroom to put the wig back on, wet hair or no. They took one last look around the hotel room before opening the door and heading for the elevators. At the front desk, Meg checked out, turned in her key cards ("Silly me, I found the other one."), and followed John outside to their waiting taxi. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, a black sedan followed a discreet distance behind. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Author's Note: I'd like to take this opportunity to thank those who have left reviews and those who have e-mailed. Nikki, .:Nichol:., Lady Adyra, Abs, and especially Diane H. A small group we are, but as I always say (and graciously gave Meg the line to use;)), "I've always been one for quality over quantity." Thank you!  
  
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Chapter Seven  
  
As the taxi made its way through Beijing, John and Meg sat silently in the back seat, each intent on their own thoughts. Little did they know they were each thinking about the other. As pleasant a subject as John was, Meg tried to steer her thoughts in a more productive direction.  
  
"Oh," she said, suddenly remembering. "I didn't get a chance to tell you. Mia looks different. You might not recognize her. She has a very short haircut," she demonstrated how short, bringing her hands up to her ears, "dyed a burgundy color. And she's wearing this shimmery blue flower print shirt -."  
  
"With brown pants," John finished. Meg looked at him quizzically. "She was leaving as I arrived. You are right, I didn't recognize her." He paused and shook his head. "A boyfriend." Meg grinned out the side window.  
  
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When the taxi pulled up outside Vogue, John had a conversation with the driver, giving him eight-hundred RMB's and holding another eight-hundred just out of reach. The driver eagerly nodded, obviously agreeing to whatever John had suggested.  
  
"The luggage will stay here. The driver will return in twenty minutes." Meg refused to leave her knapsack, shouldering both straps before exiting the car. John joined her on the curb and they walked to Vogue's entrance.  
  
It was edging towards nine o'clock and the evening crowd was already stretching the capacity of the club. The building itself was beautiful, a mix of ancient and modern. The polished wooden floor was interspersed with carved stone columns reaching to the ceiling two stories above. Multicolored strobe lights threw spasm inducing light patterns everywhere. A black lacquer wood and chrome bar took up almost the entire far wall. Meg studied the bartenders, wondering which one was Liu. Stairs led to a second story loft where people were lounging around on sofas and armchairs, chatting and smoking cigars.  
  
Crystal Method's "Trip Like I Do" was playing at foundation vibrating volume, making speech almost impossible. Meg pointed to herself and then the loft. John nodded and held up both hands, palms towards her, fingers splayed. Ten minutes. Meg nodded back that she understood and proceeded up the steps, maneuvering around necking couples and loitering groups. She made her way to the area of railing overlooking the bar and scanned the seats lined up there. She spotted Mia in under a minute and plopped down next to her on the sofa.  
  
"This seat taken?" Mia looked momentarily startled, but recovered quickly, looking in the direction Meg had come. "He's downstairs," Meg offered. Mia nodded, resigned, and returned her gaze to the bar below.  
  
"Is he angry?" Mia asked. Meg considered, then shook her head.  
  
"I don't think so. Worried, definitely. Upset, some. But not angry. Not at you anyway." Meg followed the direction Mia was looking, but couldn't tell for certain which bartender had her attention. "So which one is Liu?" Mia chucked her chin towards the far left of the bar. An attractive man, if you're into smarmy. He had a goatee, a diamond earring, and slicked back hair. Not promising. Meg wondered what Mia saw in him and hoped he wasn't typical of her taste in men. Crystal Method segued to "Absurd" by Fluke as she waited for Mia to speak again.  
  
"I've been watching."  
  
"Don't you want to talk to him?"  
  
"I did." Meg examined Mia's profile.  
  
"And?"  
  
"He did not recognize me."  
  
"That's understandable, you do look different." Mia shook her head.  
  
"No, that is not what I mean. He didn't know me. He was . . . banging on me," Mia finished after a hesitation. Meg grinned at the misused term.  
  
"You mean 'hitting' on you?" Mia nodded. Meg frowned. She wasn't the least bit surprised, but wanted to be supportive. "Well, he's a bartender, they're expected to flirt with customers." It grated on her nerves to have to make excuses for the man. Fortunately, Mia didn't seem interested in reconciliation and sighed.  
  
"It does not matter. I was foolish." Mia turned to face her. "Have you ever acted foolishly because of a man?" Meg chuckled sardonically and shook her head. Does traveling six-thousand miles and putting myself in mortal danger count? She thought it, but didn't say it. Instead she stood and held out her hand to Mia.  
  
"Come on, let's find your brother and get out of here."  
  
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On the first floor, John was walking slowly through the mass of dancing bodies, scanning the crowd for signs of Mia. So far he hadn't found her and hoped Meg was having better luck. A sudden cold awareness spread through his chest and he looked sharply to his left. There. A man who wasn't dancing, but searching the crowd. John unbuttoned his jacket and pulled one of the Berettas from the shoulder holster, lowering his hand to let the gun dangle unobtrusively at his hip.  
  
John threaded his way through the dancers to the stairs leading to the second floor loft, intending to find Meg and Mia. Another instinctive chill passed over him as he reached the foot of the stairs, sending goose bumps down his arms. A different man was looking right at John, face expressionless. The stranger's hand reached inside his long overcoat and pulled out an H&K SOCOM. John realized the man intended to open fire in a building full of innocent bystanders. He had a sudden flash of a dead woman in a parking garage in Los Angeles.  
  
"No," John whispered under his breath, raising his own gun in the man's direction.  
  
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Meg and Mia reached the landing at the top of the stairs and were about to start down when Meg noticed John at the bottom. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but stopped when she saw him pointing his gun in the direction of the dance floor.  
  
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Several things then happened at once.  
  
John pulled his trigger, hitting the man between the eyes, but as the gun man went down, his finger was convulsively pulling the trigger. Most of the bullets sprayed harmlessly over the crowd, but a few dancers were hit. A riot ensued.  
  
The first man John had seen had pulled out his own H&K and started shooting in John's direction.  
  
Meg pushed Mia and herself flat against the wall, trying to avoid the crush of club goers running up and down the stairs in an attempt to escape the gun fire.  
  
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John ducked into a crouch and ran towards the nearest stone column, standing up behind it for cover. He took a peek around, hoping to get a shot off, but there were still too many people around. He glanced up to the loft and caught sight of Meg and Mia on the landing. Meg was scanning the floor, probably looking for him. She finally spotted him. Their gazes met and held. She nodded faintly and pulled Mia away from the wall and back in the other direction across the loft.  
  
Koy's men couldn't possibly know what Mia looked like and John intended to keep it that way. Meg would keep her safe. The club was clearing out quickly. John had to make his move soon.  
  
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Meg had a hold of Mia's arm and wasn't letting go. There were still a number of stray clubbers running around and she didn't want to get separated. In her search for Mia earlier, she was pretty sure she had seen a fire exit. Sure enough, there it was. It was already open, a stream of people running out.  
  
Meg paused as they reached the door and looked back towards the dance floor. She was worried for John and wanted to help him. But she knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself and needed his sister safely away. Her decision was made for her as they were pushed out the door by people behind them.  
  
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John chanced another look around the column, but the man was no longer there. He scanned the immediate area, but didn't see anyone. The naturally dim interior coupled with the strobing lights kept many areas of the club in darkness. He quickly made his way to another column as "Absurd" blended into Rob D's "Clubbed To Death".  
  
A string of shots struck the column, showering him with bits of stone. John quickly went into a roll and righted himself, one knee on the floor, one knee bent, and gun aiming at the direction the shots had come from. He let loose a round into the shadows and was rewarded with the soft thud of a body hitting the floor and a gun clattering.  
  
John took cover behind another column and considered his options. When he had spoken with Meng earlier, there was mention of four suspicious men in the temple. If these were the same men, that meant there were still two more. His suspicions were confirmed when more shots rang out, leaving smoking holes in the wood floor at his feet. He laid down cover fire and made a beeline for the bar, diving over the shiny black and silver surface. More shots followed him, splintering the wood of the bar and making starburst patterns on the wall length mirror.  
  
He landed hard and rolled over, checking his ammo clip. Empty. He ejected it and slammed another into place as the liquor bottles on the shelves above him exploded, littering the ground with glass and alcohol. He slid around the edge of the bar and slowly looked around the corner, immediately spotting one of the gunmen. John took aim and shot three times in quick succession. Two in the chest, one in the head. He ducked back around the bar as the fourth man opened fire, splintering more wood and scattering more glass.  
  
John's eyes darted along the wall, spotting a door marked "Employee's Only". He got to his knees and shot a few rounds over the bar, then ran in a low crouch for the door, slamming through under another hail of bullets.  
  
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After descending the fire escape with other club goers, Meg and Mia rounded the corner in the alley and stopped to catch their breath. Meg checked her watch. Jesus, it'd only been fifteen minutes since they'd first walked into the place. Their taxi wouldn't even return for another five minutes.  
  
Meg had to resist the urge to race back into the club to find John. Though they worked well together in shoot outs with bad guys, she knew her priority was to keep Mia safe. Speaking of which, Mia was looking the way they had come, a worried expression on her face.  
  
"Where is John?" she asked.  
  
"He's coming. Soon," Meg answered after a pause, hoping she wasn't lying.  
  
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John looked at his new surroundings. A long hallway with doors lining each side at regular intervals. Probably offices and storage rooms. At the end of the hallway was the exit. To his right was a flight of stairs leading up. They were at the wrong angle to connect with the loft. He had an idea of where they might lead and started up.  
  
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Meg paced back and forth restlessly, snapping her fingers and clapping her hands. *Snap, clap, snap, clap, snap, clap.* Mia was leaning against the wall with her hands clasped, watching her with concern.  
  
Meg knew she was making Mia nervous, but she couldn't help herself. She checked her watch for the umpteenth time. The five minutes were up. She stood still perfectly still for a moment, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and motioned to Mia. They walked to the front of the building to the waiting taxi.  
  
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When he reached the top of the stairs, it was as he thought. A series of interconnecting catwalks allowed easy access to the lighting fixtures of the club for installation and maintenance. The fourth gunman was slowly making his way towards the bar. John aimed his gun carefully and emptied the entire clip into the man. He turned and retraced his steps back down to the hallway, to the exit door, and out of the building.  
  
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Meg and Mia sat in the taxi. The driver tapped his fingers on the steering wheel with irritation, but Meg was resolute. They were waiting five more minutes for John. Period. The day seemed to finally take its toll on Mia. She was crying quietly, arms wrapped protectively around her middle. Meg felt a sudden surge of affection for the girl and grasped her hand. Mia looked at her gratefully and tried to smile, the effect just making her look more pitiable.  
  
They both jumped when the door back door suddenly opened and John slid in. Mia gasped in relief and threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Meg sincerely wished she could do the same and felt on the verge of tears herself. She met John's eyes over Mia's head, hoping her gaze transmitted how glad she was his ass was still in one piece. Still, she felt she had to say something or burst. She went the witty one liner route.  
  
"I just can't take you anywhere, can I?"  
  
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Disclaimer: Vogue is a real life restaurant/club in Beijing, one of the poshest and most popular. However, I've never been there, so all architectural details are completely made up. Song Credits: -"Trip Like I Do" by Crystal Method from the album 'Vegas' -"Absurd" by Fluke from the 'La Femme Nikita' television soundtrack -"Clubbed To Death" by Rob D from the 'Matrix' movie soundtrack 


	8. Chapter Eight

Author's Note: This has points of view from both John and Meg. Be forewarned that there is much angst-iness in this chapter.  
  
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Chapter Eight  
  
John gave the driver their destination and sat back, Mia still clinging to him. While John and Meg had experience handling bad guys with guns, and shootouts in general, Mia did not. The adrenaline rush was wearing off for all of them, but Mia was feeling it the most acutely. She was beginning to nod off.  
  
The taxi pulled up in front of the Beijing Continental Grand Hotel in Asian Games Village. John gently shook Mia awake and paid the driver his meter rate plus the extra eight-hundred RMB. Meg dragged Mia out her side of the taxi and handed her the pilot case handle, hoping the action of wheeling it around would keep her awake. Meg's own knapsack was still securely attached to her back. John exited his side the with duffel and briefcase in tow.  
  
They entered the lobby and approached the front desk. John registered them under an assumed name and paid cash. He accepted the key card, declined the offer of a porter, and guided them towards the elevator, which seemed miles away.  
  
The hotel was enormous. Over twelve-hundred rooms, twenty-four restraunts, shopping arcade, beauty salon, and many other services. John pushed the button for the twelfth floor as they entered the elevator and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Having no forward motion to keep her going, Mia began to nod off again. Meg put her arm around the girl and Mia snuggled into her side. Meg froze for a second, not accustomed to such physical contact, but then relaxed, patting Mia gently on the shoulder. She glanced over at John, but his eyes were still closed. As she watched, a grimace of pain passed over his features and he unconsciously clutched at his left side where the duffel was resting. Meg frowned, but said nothing.  
  
The elevator dinged and came to a stop. Meg shook Mia awake and followed John out when the doors opened. They came to a stop at their room and John unlocked the door, allowing them to pass through first. He closed the door behind them, locking and latching it. The room turned out to be a huge suite with a central living room area leading out to a balcony. Two sets of double doors opened to their left and right, presumably bedrooms. Meg started to lead Mia through the doors on the right, then turned back to John.  
  
"I'm putting Mia to bed. You. Sit. I'll be right back." He looked at her questioningly, but did as asked.  
  
Meg continued on to the bedroom, closing the doors behind them. She stripped Mia down to her chemise and panties and slid her under the covers of the king size bed. The girl was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Meg unslung her knapsack and took off her coat, hanging it in the closet. She then walked into the bathroom and removed the contacts and wig. Her hair was a mess from being confined under the wig still wet, but she'd live. She found a first aid kit in the cabinet and headed back out to the living room, shutting the door. John looked up as she entered.  
  
"Mia is down for the count," she told him as she reached the couch. "Okay, stand up," she said abruptly. He started to rise, bringing the duffel with him, but Mia shook her head. "Uh-uh, just you, leave the bag on the couch." John rose reluctantly. Meg gasped as his left side came into view. The area the duffel had been covering was stained dark red. "Jesus," she whispered.  
  
"Meg, it is nothing. I have been hurt worse before," John told her.  
  
"I'm sure you have," Meg replied a little sadly. "But you haven't had me with you before. Jacket and shirt off. Now," she ordered, leaving no room for argument. While he did as told, she opened the first aid kit and rummaged through its contents, removing gauze and alcohol. She turned back to John and was even more dismayed. The lower left portion of his t-shirt was completely soaked through, a bullet hole evident in the fabric. The color contrast was striking between the bright white of the t-shirt and the blood. Meg was starting to get worried. "Off with the t-shirt, John," she told him.  
  
John hesitated, then gingerly pulled the garment up and over his head. She sat on the couch while he remained standing, giving her perfect access to the wound. Upon closer inspection, it didn't appear to be that bad. The bullet seemed to have cauterized most of the flesh as it passed through at the outside edge above his hip.  
  
"So, you'll have to fill me in on all the excitement since I missed it. What happened? How many were there?" she asked as she dabbed at the wound with the alcohol soaked gauze.  
  
"Four men. We fought. They died." Quick and concise. Meg chuckled.  
  
"Well, I asked, didn't I?" she said ruefully. She stood and slowly circled him. She told herself she was looking for other injuries, which she was, but she also wanted to take in the site of his exposed skin. John was obviously uncomfortable revealing this much, which made her think it was a rare occurrence. His skin was smooth, muscles clearly defined. Here and there were scars - some from bullets, some knife inflicted.  
  
She recognized one on his back by his left shoulder. The shot he took in the movie theater while rescuing Zedkov's son. Along the right of his spine in the middle of his back was a pattern of discolored mottling. Before she thought about what she was doing, she'd placed her palm over the spot. Soft and warm. John immediately went still under her touch. Meg quickly removed her hand and stepped back, picking up his discarded suit jacket, dress shirt, and t-shirt.  
  
"Um," she stammered, suddenly nervous. "You're gonna have a really colorful set of bruises tomorrow. And these will have to go," she continued, indicating the bloodied clothes. "This is a swank place, think they have room service for clothes?" She started walking backwards toward Mia's room, not exactly looking at him. "You know, I could use some stuff too. Why don't you write down your sizes on the pad by the phone and I'll order for us." Her butt hit the door and she reached behind her to open it. "Door," she said unnecessarily, pointing to it as she passed through.  
  
She closed the door and retreated to the bathroom, grabbing a plastic laundry bag from the closet along the way. She wrapped John's clothing into a tight wad and stuffed it at the bottom of the trash bin. She then turned on the cold water faucet and splashed her face and neck liberally. Rubbing the back of her neck and then her temples, she took deep breaths and tried to stop thinking about John's body. Oops, did it again. Dammit!  
  
Meg couldn't remember the last time a man had affected her this way. She didn't think one ever had. She sighed and turned off the faucet, checking on Mia before opening the door to the living room. She took a peek out. No John. She sat on the couch and picked up the pad. John had done as she suggested, writing down his sizes.  
  
She dialed room service, explaining that their luggage had been lost at the airport and they needed some clothing. She ordered John a suit in navy blue ("Yes, off the rack will just HAVE to do."), a pair of sleep pants, and a pack of t-shirts. She ordered herself some underwear, and as an afterthought several different dishes of food and a pitcher of orange juice. She wasn't sure if John had eaten today, but he really should have something after losing that blood.  
  
While she waited for room service, she wandered over to John's open bedroom door. The bathroom door was closed and the shower was on. She turned back to the living room and walked to the desk, taking the gun from her waistband and putting it in a drawer. Not a good idea to scare the waitstaff. She went back to the couch and picked up the television remote, flipping through stations until she came across an english language news channel. She recognized the Vogue building behind the newscaster as he gave an accounting of what had happened according to eyewitness reports. Basically, no one knew anything except that several Chinese men had opened fire on one another. A few people had been injured, but the only ones killed were four men found with guns. There was no mention of herself or Mia. Good.  
  
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In the shower, John stood under the cold spray trying to dispel the feeling of Meg's hand on his skin. It wasn't easy. As she'd backed away from him, he'd stood frozen in place. He knew if he'd moved, he would've gone to her and . . . he wasn't sure. This wasn't really the time or place for a romantic interlude. He shook his head and turned the water off, stepping out of the shower.  
  
John was a man of action, these sort of thoughts would only serve to distract him, which is probably why he'd never considered a serious relationship before. That thought stopped him cold. Was he considering one now? Before he could analyze that thought any further, there was a knock on the door.  
  
"John," Meg called out. "Room service came, I'm leaving your clothes on the bed, there are some things to sleep in. I borrowed a t-shirt. I also ordered some food, you should really come out and eat. I'll close the door when I leave. By the way, the news report says no one was killed at the club except the bad guys. Good job."  
  
John toweled off and opened the bathroom door, walking to the bed. He picked up the sleep pants and pulled a t-shirt out of the already opened pack. He dressed, then hung the navy suit in the closet and tossed the rest of the t-shirt pack in a drawer. He eyed the bedroom door and considered just going to bed and avoiding Meg for one more night, but he knew he should have some food. He hadn't eaten since breakfast at the temple. The shootout, blood loss, and the day in general had drained him. Plus he needed to speak to Meg of other matters.  
  
Meg looked up as he opened the door, following his movements as he walked to the coffee table where he'd set his briefcase. He picked it up and joined Meg at the small table where at least three different entrees and a large pitcher of orange juice were set out.  
  
"I don't think I'm going to eat all of this," he commented as he sat down. Meg smiled.  
  
"I didn't know what you liked, so I got a variety." She brought her feet up to the seat and put her chin on her knees. John suddenly remembered something that had been on his mind.  
  
"When I saw you in the temple this morning, it looked like you were praying. Meng mentioned the same thing when he brought the photographs. It's a very unusual sight for an American to be praying in a Buddhist temple in China," he commented, slicing into a steak and eating a forkful. Meg looked mildly uncomfortable and very sheepish.  
  
"Yeah, well." She shrugged and was silent for a few moments. "I started going to the temple regularly after you left," she finally said. John watched her while he chewed, waiting for her to elaborate. She didn't.  
  
"Why?" John asked curiously. Meg appeared to think this over, then shrugged again.  
  
"I don't think I can really put it into words. While I'm there, I feel . . . ," she shook her head. "As hokey as it sounds, I feel at peace. Safe. I like it. And Chien's a trip. Some of the things he says are so out there, but also true. It's weird." John smiled at her. And honest to goodness smile. With teeth and everything. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Before she could get all mushy about it, she frowned at him. "What? You think he has me snowed? No way. I have him right here," she told him, holding up her pinky finger. "How do you think I got him to tell me where you were?"  
  
"Maybe you were meant to help us and Chien saw that," John said seriously. Meg's frowned deepened.  
  
"You mean like fate or destiny?" she asked, shaking her head. "I don't like that preordained crap. Makes me feel like I have no control over my future. I came to China because I didn't want you dead. Period." John watched her a moment longer before setting down his silverware and clearing the table.  
  
"I know." He set the briefcase on the table and opened it, taking out a folder and turning it so that she could see it. He slid a piece of paper in front of her. "This is an authorization granting you and Mia access to my account at Finsbury Bank and Trust on Grand Cayman Island." He slid two other pieces of paper in front of her. "These are similar authorizations for Credit Lyonnais and Union Bank of Switzerland. Between the three, there is about twenty-three million dollars." Meg put her feet on the floor and leaned forward to look at the papers.  
  
"That's US dollars, right?" she asked, fingering the sheets. John nodded, but noted she didn't look particularly interested. She finally sighed and pushed the papers away from her, settling back into her seat. "Why are you telling me this?"  
  
"I want you to take Mia back to America with you, but not to Los Angeles. She wants to attend an Ivy League American college, somewhere on the east coast. She has never been on her own, she needs someone to look after her. You will both be safe." Meg was starting to look angry. "The money should more than compensate for your time," he told her, though he was pretty sure that wasn't what was bothering her.  
  
"That isn't the problem, John, and you know it. Where are you going to be?" John sighed and looked away.  
  
"I must go after Koy. As long as he is alive to pay the reward, there will be mercenaries after me."  
  
"Really? And then what?" John didn't answer right away.  
  
"Meg, there will always be another Koy. And if I killed that person, another would take his place. It will be better if I remain alone." Meg eyed him angrily, then shook her head and got up. She left him at the table and walked out onto the balcony. John gave her a few minutes, then joined her at the railing. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the view below, all of the people going about their daily lives. They stood in silence for a long time.  
  
"Do you have any idea what it took for me to leave you that day at the airport?" she suddenly asked, still looking over the railing. "To turn around, walk away, and not look back?" John didn't answer. He watched her profile and waited for her to continue. "I went home and packed up whatever was still in one piece. I moved my operation, set up a new office, and got on with my life. I tried to forget you." She chuckled humorlessly. "That's a laugh. I started going to that temple, I kept your pictures . . ." She shook her head and finally turned to face him. "I didn't come here just for you, John. I came for me. I had to know if it was you or just the idea of you. You know what I figured out?" This time John answered with a shake of his head. "It's you," she whispered.  
  
John was overwhelmed, so many feelings were coursing through his body. He had never been outwardly expressive of his emotions, even with his mother and sister. He knew what he wanted to do right this moment, but his reserve kept him in check. He slowly reached out his hand and gently gripped her neck, as he had the last time he'd seen her. Meg covered his hand with her own and leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his face.  
  
"Meg," he said softly. She placed a kiss on his palm and then backed away from him.  
  
"You're coming with us. I won't leave you again." With that, she entered the living room and picked up her t-shirt from the couch, then walked into Mia's bedroom, closing the door behind her.  
  
John remained at the railing well into the night, staring out at the lights and bustle of Beijing. Why was he resisting Meg? It was quite possible for him to disappear in America. He could have a life with Meg and Mia. A normal life.  
  
But there was always the chance that someone would find them. Someone from their old life. Meg and Mia would be safer without him. It was unlikely Koy's men, or anyone who followed him, would be interested in pursuing just Mia. John was the big prize.  
  
He finally turned and left the balcony, heading to bed to sleep. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Author's Note: Many thanks to my new readers as well as old! And, as always, a special thanks to Diane H., who gives me great feedback on my work. I think this chapter is something of a turning point. I honestly don't know where I'm going with it after this. Whatever expectations I had when I began have been met and surpassed. Now I'm in unchartered territory and looking forward to seeing what happens next as much as all of you. Anyway, enjoy!  
  
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Chapter Nine  
  
Meg rolled over, trying to avoid a sliver of bright sunlight that seemed intent on blazing right across her eyelids. She finally gave up trying to sleep and looked at the clock. Seven thirty-one. She then looked over at Mia, who was still sleeping soundly. Oh, to have the constitution of a twenty year old, Meg thought, forcing herself out of bed.  
  
In the bathroom, she snapped on a plastic shower cap and quickly showered. She then dressed in a new pair of underwear and the same black slacks and garnet blouse from the day before, travel pouch securely in place around her neck. After inserting the contacts and pulling on the wig, she picked up her knapsack, grabbed her coat from the closet, and headed out to the living room.  
  
The dishes and juice pitcher from the night before were still sitting on the room service trolley. John's bank papers were no longer out in the open, but his briefcase had been set back on the coffee table. She assumed the papers were inside. The duffel and first aid kit still sat on the couch. She picked up the phone and ordered breakfast, then went to the desk and opened it, taking out the Vektor and slipping it into her waistband. She went back to the bedroom and woke Mia to shower.  
  
A knock on the door prompted her to slip on her jacket and check the peep hole. Room service. She opened the door and directed them to the small table where they set out breakfast and cleared away the used plates.  
  
After room service left, Meg walked to John's door and listened. Silence. She didn't want to intrude on his sleep, but they really needed to get going soon. She knocked softly and waited. No response. She knocked louder and called out his name. Still nothing. Suspicious now, she opened the door. The bed was empty. A quick search of the bathroom and closet revealed that John and his new suit were gone. In a daze, Meg walked to the couch and sat down.  
  
"Son of a bitch," she said under her breath, feeling the sting of tears. I will NOT cry, she told herself firmly, taking deep breaths. Finally under control, she stood and headed to the bedroom to get Mia.  
  
Before she made it, the front door began to open. Lightning fast, she pulled the Vektor and aimed. She had to blink several times when it was John who entered. She pointed the gun away from him.  
  
"Jesus! Where the hell were you?" Meg asked angrily. John frowned at her gun and held up three China East flight itineraries.  
  
"The airline desk in the lobby." Meg returned the gun to her waistband and stood before him a moment looking at the plane tickets. She looked up to meet his eyes.  
  
"Three, huh?" she asked, hoping he understood the significance of her question. John smiled slightly and nodded. Meg paused and then nodded back. "Okay, then." She fetched Mia from the bedroom, practically having to drag her out. Mia was wearing her white Gucci blouse and skirt set and looking very stylish.  
  
Mia stood still, head down, hands clasped in front of her. She looked terrified. Meg realized she must still think John was mad at her for the night before.  
  
John stood in front of Mia for a few moments before he lifted her chin with his hand.  
  
"You look beautiful," he told her, kissing her on the forehead. Mia's face nearly split in two she was smiling so big. Meg grinned. John told Mia to eat some breakfast, then motioned Meg out to the balcony. "I tried to contact Soom at the temple, but was unable to reach him. I am worried." Meg didn't need to ask what about. They both remembered Alan's fate for helping them.  
  
"So what are you going to do?"  
  
"I must go to the temple."  
  
"We're going with you," Meg immediately replied. John started to shake his head. "Hey! Did we or did we not discuss this separating thing last night?" He still didn't looked convinced. "John, whatever has happened to Soom has happened." She paused to let this sink in. "But I know you have to find out for sure. And we're going with you," she repeated. John looked at her for a moment, then nodded.  
  
They joined Mia at the table and finished breakfast. John then explained to her about the bank accounts. She didn't seem to grasp the sheer volume of money that was now at her fingertips, taking it all in stride. She was only concerned that she would be with her brother and attending school in America.  
  
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After the room service trolley was set outside the door, the trio went about gathering their belongings and packing. Finally ready, they left the room, entered the elevator, and descended to the lobby. John checked them out at the front desk while Meg and Mia secured a taxi out at the curb. He joined them and they headed for the Winjin Jie Temple.  
  
As the taxi pulled up across the street from the temple, they could see a 'closed for repairs' sign on the front double doors. John frowned and put his hand on the door handle to open it. Meg touched his shoulder to stop him.  
  
"Wait. I have a better idea." She directed the driver around the block and down the street from the alley behind the temple. Meg turned to Mia. "Do you still have that key?"  
  
"Yes," Mia replied, removing the key from around her neck. "I was going to mail it to Soom when we reached Los Angeles." She handed it to Meg, who motioned John outside. When they were standing outside the car, he lowered his head to the window to speak to Mia.  
  
"If we do not return in twenty minutes, you will go to the airport and leave China. Do you understand?" Mia's eyes grew wide and she nodded solemnly. When he stood, Meg glared at him over the top of the car, then had her own conversation with Mia.  
  
"Hey," she said, poking Mia on the shoulder, "we'll be fine. In and out. My women's intuition tells me so. Okay?" Mia gave her a small smile and nodded. Meg stood and gave John a look that said "that's how you handle it." They then set off around the corner and down the alley to the door in the wall. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, John pulled one of the Beretta's from his shoulder holster and clicked the safety off. Meg did the same to her Vektor after removing it from the small of her back, then unlocked the door and slipped the key into her pocket.  
  
The door opened inward, so John squeezed in, checking quickly left and then right. He motioned Meg in and they entered the house from the back door. It was immediately apparent that the place had been tossed. What few bits of furniture there were had been turned over, pulled apart, and generally trashed. Papers and books were strewn about and the crockery from the kitchen was smashed and scattered.  
  
Staying within close proximity of each other, they methodically searched all of the rooms. No Soom Meng. They exited the house through the front door and started walking through the garden towards the temple.  
  
As John passed a small pond, a shot pinged off one of the boulders surrounding the water. He and Meg immediately dropped to the ground, trying to discern which direction the shooter was. And wondering if there was more than one. Another shot told them it was originating from the temple.  
  
John and Meg signaled silently to each other, deciding to split up and enter the building from different points. Meg took the entrance John had shown her the day before. She didn't like the dark twists and turns, making her way as quietly as she could. Before she rounded the last corner, she heard a scuffle and shots from several different guns. Trying not to panic, she sped into the main room and quickly looked around, gun following her eyes.  
  
At least two gunmen that she could see had John cornered. One of them had his back to her and she took him out with a shot to the head. A third who must've been out of her line of sight took a shot at her, missing by only inches and splintering the wall beside her. She ducked and slid behind the statue of some Buddhist deity she didn't recognize. She peeked around the statue's arm and aimed at the second gunmen, who was exchanging gunfire with John. Before she could pull the trigger, two shots from John caught him and he was down as well. The third was still hidden somewhere and didn't seem keen on revealing where.  
  
Meg got down on all fours and started crawling along the floor. Thankfully, the interior was rather dark, lit mostly with candlelight and some filtered sunlight from small windows spaced along the walls. As she rounded a low lying table draped with a silk tapestry, she heard the sound of a gun cartridge being ejected. Taking advantage of this, she jumped to her feet and ran in the direction of the sound. She startled the man just as he was about to insert a fresh cartridge into his gun. She hated to shoot an essentially defenseless man, but when considering the alternative, she didn't have much choice. She pulled the trigger.  
  
The sound of voices led her to the other side of the room where she found John bending over something. She stepped to his side. A man dressed in black laid at his feet, hands beside his head, a gun on the ground a few feet away. A fourth man John must've taken out before she entered the room. He was alive, but bleeding from a shot to the leg. John had his gun aimed at the man's head, speaking to him in Chinese. The verbal exchange was short. John finally nodded and fired his gun. Meg flinched but said nothing. If the man had been allowed to live, he would've been a threat later on. One less gun to deal with. John turned to Meg.  
  
"He claimed that they found no priest here. They were left in the event we returned."  
  
"So Soom must be safe somewhere, right?" John nodded. "Then let's get out of here, we have a plane to catch."  
  
They had walked a few steps when Meg stopped. "And when we get back to the States, remind me to have my women's intuition checked."  
  
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Before they could go the airport, they made a stop in the Chenxie District to dispose of their weapons. There was no way to get them through customs. Besides, America was full of guns. Meg hesitated when it came time to hand over her Vektor. She really liked that gun.  
  
"I will buy you another," John told her. Meg grinned and looked over at him.  
  
"Why, John, that is the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me." John looked as if he couldn't tell whether she was kidding or not. Mia giggled. Now illegal paraphernalia free (except for the fake passports, of course), they headed to the airport.  
  
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Walking towards the China East counter, Meg couldn't remember a time she'd felt this good. It was almost a foreign emotion. Now she knew what those cheesie ass people meant when they said pure happiness was like walking on air. She also felt an emotion even more rare to her. Contentment. She had her man beside her. She liked the sound of that. Her man. And a kid sister to boot. She'd always wanted a sister when she was little. Her euphoric feeling didn't last long.  
  
Meg gazed idly over at the Customs area and felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs. As casually as she could, she steered John and Mia to a 'You Are Here' map on the wall, leaving their backs to Customs. John looked at her questioningly.  
  
"Koy's here. He just came out of Customs. Dark gray suit, two goons in black beside him." John chanced a look over his shoulder and zeroed in on Koy. He nodded and turned to Mia.  
  
"Stay with Meg, she will look after you. I will join you in America as soon as I can." Mia looked mildly panicked and clutched at his arm. He smiled at her and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. He then turned to Meg, who was shaking her head.  
  
"Uh-uh. I don't even think so. You're not ditching me and going after Koy alone. Mia can go to Chien in LA, I'll stay here with you. You need my help." It was John's turn to shake his head as he set his briefcase on the ground and took hold of her shoulders.  
  
"I want Mia with you," he told her. "I trust only you." He looked at her until she finally nodded. He was about to let go of her when she put her hands over his. She moved her palms along his arms and walked into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist. John hesitated at first, then tightened his arms around her. Not yet satisfied, Meg ran her hands inside his suit jacket along the ridges of his back, then up to his chest. She touched her forehead to his and then slid her cheek against the side of his face.  
  
"Come back to me and you can have more of this," she whispered in his ear. Knowing if she didn't let go now she never would, she turned abruptly away from him. She grabbed his briefcase with one hand and Mia's arm with the other and resumed their course to the China East counter.  
  
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John stood where Meg had left him. He was afraid to move, his body felt almost electrified. He turned and put his back against the wall for support and steadfastly avoided looking in the direction Meg and Mia had walked in. He couldn't become any more distracted than he already was. If he'd had doubts before, Meg had just banished them. He wanted a normal life. With Meg and his sister.  
  
But first Koy had to die.  
  
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After checking in and getting their boarding passes, Meg and Mia started toward the Departure terminal. Getting out was certainly a lot easier than getting in. They hadn't made it far when Mia began crying uncontrollably. Meg pulled her into the nearest ladies room and then into a stall in the corner.  
  
"Hey," Meg said soothingly, running her hands over the girl's hair, "it's okay. What are you crying for?" Mia couldn't answer for several minutes.  
  
"I am worried for John," she finally responded, between sniffles. "What if -."  
  
"Hey!" Meg said, more forceful this time. "Nothing is gonna happen to John. Got that? He's very good at what he does. You think this is the only time he's been in a spot like this?" Mia reluctantly shook her head, conceding Meg's point. "Do you trust your brother?" Mia nodded.  
  
"Yes," she replied with conviction in her voice.  
  
"So do I. And I also trust that he'll do everything in his power to come back to us. Do you?" Mia nodded again. "Okay, then, no more crying." They exited the stall and Mia splashed her face with water. Satisfied that they were both presentable, they left the restroom and continued to their departure gate. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Author's Note: I'm definitely getting close to the end, I'd say a couple of more chapters and this particular story should be wrapped up. My apologies for taking so long to post, but I was seriously stuck on it. I had really REALLY wanted to have the final shootout in the Forbidden City. I did a ton of reserach on it. I have diagrams and maps and guides and descriptions and pictures. But I finally decided it was just too impractical. I couldn't figure out a 'why'. As in, "Why would they end up there to begin with?" And the place is really just too large anyway. Besides, John already TWO shootouts;) As always, I hope you enjoy it and please let me know if you do!  
  
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Chapter Ten  
  
Meg and Mia caught a connecting United Airlines flight to Los Angeles at Tokyo's Narita airport. They settled in for the longest leg of the journey, another fifteen hours. Plenty of time to think. Too much time.  
  
I should've brought a book, Meg thought. Yeah, a nice murder mystery. That brought to mind unpleasant associations. Okay, a fluffy little romance, maybe. That didn't help either.  
  
Meg sighed and turned to Mia, who was looking out the window at the scenery below. Again. She'd barely removed her nose from the glass on the flight from Beijing. The poor thing had never seen the ocean, never been out of the country, never been on a plane, never done a lot of things.  
  
To keep both their minds off John, Meg had tried to keep Mia talking. She had been curious about Liu Jian. Mia told her all about the big "romance". Turned out it consisted entirely of small talk while Liu had been walking his dog in the park. The guy actually did sound nice. Maybe the whole smarmy vibe was strictly a work persona.  
  
Since much of Mia's life had been spent in hiding, she hadn't made many friends, none long term. Most of the human contact had been with her mother and whoever John had arranged to look after them at the time. Meg hadn't realized how incredibly sheltered the girl was. John had looked after her interests and obviously loved her, but she was twenty years old and had no idea how to take care of herself. If Mia was going to live in America, she needed a serious crash course on being American. Meg would take the girl under her wing, she had potential. First stop, the shooting range.  
  
Mia asked questions about Meg's life in LA. So Meg told her about work, the temple, Chien, and target practice. Mia found it all fascinating.  
  
"Could I learn about guns?" Mia asked hopefully.  
  
"Would you believe I was just thinking that same exact thing?" Meg replied.  
  
Mia practically bounced in her seat and gave Meg an impulsive hug. Meg still wasn't accustomed to such displays of affection, but patted her on the back and smiled. Mia turned her attention back to the window, but since the rest of the journey was over the Pacific Ocean, she soon lost interest and started yawning. Meg pulled a travel pillow and blanket from the overhead compartment and handed them to Mia. Situated comfortably, Mia soon fell asleep.  
  
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After leaving the airport, Koy and his men stepped into a waiting black sedan. John caught the nearest taxi and instructed the driver to follow. He watched as the sedan pull up to the Movenpick. One of Koy's men entered the building and exited a few minutes later with a young man in a hotel uniform. John recognized him. Son, the one who had been watching him in the hallway. That's how Koy's men had found him at Vogue.  
  
Son was hustled into the car, emerging some time later to walk hurriedly back into the hotel, throwing nervous looks over his shoulder.  
  
The sedan pulled away from the curb. The taxi driver asked John is he should again follow. John considered and replied in the negative. He paid the man, then slid out of the car and walked into the building. He had a hunch.  
  
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Having already flipped through the airline magazine twice, Meg began to fidget in her seat. On the arriving flight, she'd had the Chinese language tapes to occupy her time, but they'd been left at the Movenpick along with her cassette player. She glanced over at Mia. Still out.  
  
Meg suddenly remembered John's briefcase. She stood and pulled it out of the overhead compartment, then sat back down. Opening the case, she found the bank papers John had shown her the night before. She pushed them aside to discover a considerable amount of cash, US dollars and Chinese RMB, and a manila folder. Curious, she flipped open the folder and examined its contents.  
  
Wow.  
  
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Not seeing Son at the front desk, John took the elevator to the second floor and walked to room two-sixteen. It was ajar, held open by the latch across the doorframe, preventing the door from closing entirely. Looking both ways to make sure no one else was in the hallway, John enetered the room and closed the door behind him.  
  
It looked as if the room hadn't yet been cleaned. Meg's discarded belongings were still scattered. Son had been searching through them when he heard the door close and turned around. He blanched when he recognized John and looked frantically around the room for an escape route. John was blocking the only way out.  
  
"I need answers," John told him. "And you will give them to me."  
  
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Meg had in her hands official documentation from the British Embassy in Beijing. The papers declared that Sung Ju and her laison with the American Embassy, Ann Thompson, were carriers of a diplomatic pouch for the British Consulate in Los Angeles. That gave them diplomatic immunity. If she didn't know any better, she would swear the papers were authentic. Impressive as they were, Meg didn't see them being needed. She hoped.  
  
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John exited the Movenpick and slid into the backseat of a taxi, giving the driver his destination. Even though John didn't have a weapon, his presence had been enough to persuade Son to tell everything he knew. Koy was not happy about losing his men at Vogue and had come to Son to find out if he had any additional information. John held up the card that Koy had given Son. It listed a phone number, a hotel name, and a room number.  
  
After another trip to the Chenxie District for a set of Berettas, a silencer, ammunition, and a shoulder holster, John proceeded to Koy's hotel. The taxi pulled up in front of the Prime Hotel on Wang Fujing. John paid the driver, got out, and entered the lobby. He bought a newspaper and settled in a chair facing the elevators.  
  
A short while later, Koy came down with his bodyguards, but only ate lunch in the hotel restraunt and then went back upstairs. As it started to get dark, Koy again ventured out with only one of his guards this time. John rose and followed them to the entrance, stopping just inside the doors to watch as the bodyguard left Koy to retrieve the car.  
  
John glanced around and decided not to risk taking Koy out. The area was too public and the hotel probably had cameras covering the entrances. The bodyguard pulled up to the curb, hopped out to open the door for Koy, and got back behind the wheel. John waited until the black sedan was down the drive before catching a taxi and following.  
  
The sedan stopped at the Great Wall Sheraton Hotel. While the guard waited in the car, John followed Koy inside and watched as he pushed through the crowd in front of Passion. Passion was hands down the busiest disco in Beijing. It was also for men only.  
  
John made his way to the entrance of the club. The bouncer gave him the once over, then motioned him in. The interior was pure industrial influence. Metal walls, stairs, and catwalks along with a stainless steel bar along one wall. John found a stool at a dark corner of the bar and ordered a drink. He sipped while scanning the crowd for Koy, finally spotting him on the dance floor with a young man who looked all of sixteen.  
  
Koy and his dance partner were gyrating suggestively to the music and after several songs walked off the dance floor. John threw some money on the bar and followed as they entered a hallway at the back of the club. A series of curtained rooms branched off the hallway. By the sounds coming from behind the curtains, it was obvious what the rooms were for.  
  
Koy and his companion entered a room at the end of the passage to the left, closing the curtain behind them. John attached the silencer to one of the Berettas and walked down the hallway, stopping outside their room. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then entered after them. Koy was sitting on a low couch while the boy was kneeling in front of him. They both looked up at John's entrance.  
  
"Leave," John told the young man, who immediately scrambled to his feet and out of the room. John brought up the gun and aimed at Koy.  
  
"John Lee," Koy said, seeming not in the least afraid. "I was hoping to meet you in person, though not under these circumstances." Koy chuckled. "I was told not to underestimate you, I must admit I am impressed." John didn't answer and fingered the trigger. Sensing that John wasn't interested in hearing platitudes, Koy switched gears. "Before you pull the trigger, you might want to listen to what I have to say. Ann Thompson and Sung Ju are passengers on China East flight two-two-nine connecting in Tokyo with American Airlines flight thirteen-forty-seven to Los Angeles. Sound familiar?" Koy leaned back, a smug look on his face.  
  
"What are you talking about?" John asked, though his heart had begun to race and a cold fear coiled around his chest.  
  
"I think you know. That little morsel Son told us the American woman's name. I have a friend at the airport who found out her itinerary and who she was seated with - Sung Ju and Alan Chan. I had assumed you were using Alan Chan, but if you're here . . . Well, no matter, they have a surprise wating for them when they reach Los Angeles."  
  
"Then I have no time to waste with you," John said as he pulled the trigger, hitting Koy between the eyes. He holstered the gun and quickly left the club.  
  
He had to find a phone. Now.  
  
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Disclaimer: Once again, Passion is an actual disco in Beijing, the busiest and for men only. But I've never been there. I based the interior after Babylon, a club on one of my and my siblings favorite tv series, 'Queer As Folk', on Showtime. My personal fav is Emmett, he is SO flaming! You go, boy! 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Author's Note: It probably would've helped if I'd looked this up BEFORE I posted the previous chapter. It turns out there is no Great Britain Embassy in Los Angeles. The only embassy is in Washington, D.C. However, there is a Great Britain CONSULATE in Los Angeles, so I've made the appropriate changes to chapter ten. My apologies to anyone who actually knew this;) In the last few chapters of this story, my research muse has abandoned me. I'm trying to get myself back in line.  
  
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Chapter Eleven  
  
"Finally," Meg said aloud as the California coastline came into view thirty- five thousand feet below. Mia once again had her nose stuck to the window. She turned her head to grin at Meg. Meg grinned back and stifled a yawn. While Mia had gotten plenty of nap time in, Meg had been too worried to close her eyes for more than five minutes. Great, they had left Beijing at noon and were arriving in Los Angeles at one PM, after a seventeen hour trip. Greenwich mean time was a bitch.  
  
Thirty minutes later, they landed and went through the process of deboarding and then to the nearest restroom to polish up their disguises. Meg put some drops in her eyes and smoothed the wig down. She would be glad to dump this particular disguise once and for all.  
  
As they stood in line at customs, Meg began to have an uneasy feeling. She glanced casually around, but didn't recognize anyone, nor did anyone seem to be paying them any undue attention. She shrugged it off and tried to appear casual as she handed her passport to the customs clerk. The clerk eyed her passport, then Meg herself. He consulted a piece of paper at his elbow and picked up the phone. Meg's uneasiness grew.  
  
"Is there a problem?" Meg asked, trying to inject just the right amount of customer irateness into her tone. The clerk held up a silencing finger as he spoke to someone in hushed tones over the phone. He hung up and turned to speak to her.  
  
"Miss Thompson, could you please step aside for a moment?" he asked politely as a couple of armed guards walked around the booth. Don't panic, Meg told herself, nodding casually to the guards as if she was pulled aside quite regularly by airport security. Behind her, Mia had handed her passport over to the clerk. "Wait," he called out to the guards. "This one is on the list, too."  
  
Mia came to stand beside Meg as they were guided down a hallway and into a room, which contained a battered table and two chairs. The door was closed behind them, the sound of a lock clicking into place. A mirror took up the wall just inside the door, obviously one of those one-way jobs where the officials get their jollies by watching you while you can't watch them back. A window looked out into the hallway, a set of blinds attached on the outside. Meg walked over to see what she could see, but a guard pulled the blinds closed.  
  
The briefcase! Meg suddenly remembered. She opened the case and pulled out the diplomatic sheets. As she closed the briefcase, she leaned over to Mia's ear.  
  
"Follow my lead," she whispered. Well, when in doubt, fake it. Meg walked boldly over to the mirror and knocked politely. "Excuse me! I need to speak to someone in charge, please. We're in Los Angeles on official business for the British and American Embassies of Beijing, we have appointments to keep at the British Consulate." No response. "Time sensitive material," Meg elaborated. A minute later, the door opened. A tubby rumpled man entered, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Miss Thompson, Miss Ju," he said, smiling and nodding to each of them in turn. "I apologize for keeping you waiting." He turned to the mirror and nodded. He waited a few moments and then turned back to them, his pleasant demeanor now gone. "Meg Coburn and Miasu Lee, I presume. You two have given us quite a bit of trouble." Meg stepped in front of Mia and backed them into a corner.  
  
"Who are you?" Meg demanded, glancing around the room for a weapon. Unless she wanted to pick up a chair and whack him with it, that pretty much exhausted her weapons choices. Tubby smiled again, but it was cold.  
  
"My name doesn't matter. I work for Mr. Koy and Mr. Koy would like an answer to a question," he said as he walked slowly towards them. "Just one question." He was now standing no more than a foot from Meg, she could smell the breath mint he must've chewed on earlier. "Where. Is. John. Lee?" Meg looked him in the eye.  
  
"Who?" she asked innocently. "I don't know any John Lee." Tubby's expression went flat and he signaled to the mirror. The door opened and two other men entered the room, big burly types who always seem to be named 'Guido'. Tubby turned back to Meg.  
  
"No?" he asked, almost genial again. "You're certain of that?"  
  
"Yep," Meg confirmed, nodding.  
  
"That's a pity. Perhaps Miasu would be more knowledgeable concerning the whereabouts of her brother." He turned to the men and nodded, then backed away. Guido #1 grabbed Meg, Guido #2 Mia. Meg felt a surge of real fear. This was bad, very bad. With guns, she was top notch. Hand to hand she could hold her own, but against three men? She was about to throw caution to the wind and let loose with her fists and feet when they heard a commotion outside in the hallway. Everyone in the room froze.  
  
The door opened admitting a tall gangly balding blond man, a shorter Chinese man, and two police officers. Meg almost didn't recognize the Chinese man as Chien Yau, the Buddhist monk. He was dressed in a business suit. He caught her eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly. She got the message and kept her mouth shut.  
  
"My dear Miss Ju," the gangly man said with a British accent, coming forward and taking Mia's hand. He raised an eyebrow at Guido #2 holding Mia's arm, who immediately let go and backed away, throwing a confused look at Tubby and Guido #1. "I am so sorry I'm late. Traffic was atrocious, but unfortunately it often is in the City of Angels." Gangly turned to Meg. "And you must be Miss Thompson. Miss Ju can't say enough good things about you, so lovely to finally meet you," he gushed, shaking Meg's hand. Tubby stepped forward.  
  
"Could I have your name, please?" he inquired, all politeness once again.  
  
"Oh, of course, how rude of me. I'm Sir Randolph Cole of the British Consulate," he said, holding out his hand. "And you are?" Tubby didn't miss a beat, taking hold and shaking firmly.  
  
"Anthony Steadham, head of security here at LAX."  
  
"Excellent job you do here, Mr. Steadham, simply fabulous. I apologize for the inconvenience, my fault, I assure you. Pleasure to have met you, but the ladies and I really must be running along, we are late," Cole pattered on, maneuvering Meg and Mia to the door. Steadham wasn't easily dissuaded though, stepping in their path.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sir Cole, but I really need to ask Miss Ju and Miss Thompson a few more questions." Cole clasped his hands behind his back and stood in front of Steadham, his easygoing manner evaporated.  
  
"Mr. Steadham, I assume you've heard of diplomatic immunity?" Steadham's mouth tightened and he nodded. Cole went on as if Steadham hadn't responded. "It means that Miss Ju and I are not subject to American laws. Under normal circumstances, Miss Thompson would be, but since she is our laison, the same courtesy is extended to her." Cole's jovial nature returned. "Now if you'll excuse us, we really must be going, our police escort awaits." With that, he ushered Meg and Mia out the door along with Chien and the police officers.  
  
The group made their way through the airport and out the arrivals terminal where a limousine with diplomatic tags and British flags a flyin' awaited, police motorcycles stood in front and behind. Cole, Chien, Meg, and Mia piled into the limo while the police officers mounted their cycles. In minutes, they were on their way into downtown LA.  
  
Meg opened her mouth to say something, but Cole held up a hand and then pushed a button. A dividing window rose between the driver and themselves.  
  
"Just a moment, if you please," he said as he picked up a pair of large headphones, the kind that cover the entire ear. He fit them snugly on his head and opened a folder with a stack of paperwork. "I like to maintain plausible deniability at all times," he explained, flipping a switch on a stereo system and lowering his head to read.  
  
"Chien," Meg began, "what are you doing here? What was that all about?"  
  
"John contacted me," Chien replied in a low voice. "Koy had discovered your assumed names and had people waiting for you at the airport, as you saw. I enlisted the help of Sir Cole to intervene." Mia sat forward.  
  
"John is safe?" she asked, mirroring Meg's unspoken question.  
  
"Yes, quite safe. And Koy will no longer be a bother to you." Meg and Mia looked at each other. "Do not worry," he continued, "John is on his way to Los Angeles, he will arrive this evening. You are Mia, I presume?" he asked. Mia nodded.  
  
"And you are Chien. John and Meg say good things about you." Chien chuckled.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that." The limo made good time with the police escort and they pulled up to the building housing the British Consulate on Wilshire Blvd. They exited the vehicle and Cole waved to the escorts, who continued down the street.  
  
"Always a pleasure, Chien," Sir Cole told him, shaking his hand. "Ladies," he said, nodding at Meg and Mia. He then turned and entered the building.  
  
"I will continue to the temple. You have a room at St. Regis," Chien told them, removing a key card from his pocket and handing it to Meg. "Number three-sixty." He smiled at them both and slid back into the limo. As it pulled away from the curb, Meg turned to Mia.  
  
"Guess we're taking a taxi. I am really starting to hate taxis. In fact, I think we need our own wheels." She hailed a cab and they got in, heading for the nearest car dealership. An hour later, they drove out of Buerge Ford on Santa Monica in a brand new black Explorer, paid for in cash. Luckily, this wasn't an extremely surprising thing to happen in LA and the salesman barely batted an eyelash.  
  
After another stop at the Los Angeles branch of Credit Lyonnais for an infusion of cash and shopping for clothes and essentials, they finally made it to the hotel. A room service meal and a shower later, Meg was ready for lights out. Mia stayed in the main room of the suite to watch American prime time while Meg crashed in one of the bedrooms.  
  
Neither had noticed the white utility van that had followed them around most of the afternoon and was now parked in the hotel's underground garage. Empty.  
  
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John's flight landed around ten PM, his trip through customs uneventful. He had thought it best to obtain a new passport before leaving Beijing, so he made another visit to Andrew Stilton from the British Embassy. If Koy knew the name Alan Chan, then others would as well. As soon as he was out of the arrivals terminal, he caught a cab and headed for the temple to see Chien.  
  
The temple was just as he remembered it. He entered the main room, his step slowing as he neared the spot where Alan had died. He lit a stick of incense for his friend, inserting it into the brass bowl of sand in front of the statue of Buddha.  
  
"John," Chien said behind him. John turned. "It is good to see you."  
  
"And you, Chien," John replied, shaking hands. "How are Meg and Miasu?"  
  
"They're fine, everything went as planned," Chien replied, motioning him to a sitting area off the main hall. He took a rectangular mahogany lacquered box about the size of a hardcover book down from a shelf and set it on the table. "As requested," he told John, who opened the box. John nodded at the contents and gave Chien a small smile.  
  
"Thank you," John said sincerely. "For everything." Chien just waved his hand dismissively, holding out a key card and a Beretta with an extra ammo clip.  
  
"I hope you will not need that," Chien told him, indicating the gun. "Meg and Miasu are at the St. Regis on Avenue of the Stars, room three-sixty. Good luck, John." John put the card in his pocket, the gun into the waistband of his pants, and picked up the box. With a final nod to Chien, he stepped outside to his waiting cab.  
  
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Steadham was pissed. That limey prick bastard Cole, he fumed for the umpteenth time. Cole had made him look bad in front of his men and that was unacceptable. But considering Cole's political ties and importance, going after him directly wasn't worth the risk. Besides, he had to babysit those bitches from the airport until John Lee showed up.  
  
He had heard a rumor that Koy was dead, that Lee had killed him in China. It was being neither confirmed nor denied. Whatever. As long as he got paid, he didn't give a shit. He glanced over the rim of the newspaper he was pretending to read and nearly dropped it.  
  
John Lee was passing through the lobby of the St. Regis, walking towards the elevators. Steadham struggled to his feet and fell in step behind him, just a fellow passenger going up. John hit the button for three and looked politely to Steadham.  
  
"Four, please," Steadhman responded. John pushed four and stood back. Steadham feigned boredom, bouncing on his heels. The doors opened on three and John walked out. Steadham waited until the doors were about to close and then slipped out.  
  
He followed John, staying as far back as possible without losing him, waiting until each corner had been rounded before proceeding down that passage himself. John finally stopped at room three-sixty and pulled out a key card. He unlocked the door and walked inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
Steadham smiled. Time to call in the troops.  
  
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Another Author's Note: Okay, maybe ONE more shootout;) And it looks like there will be at least another chapter as well. But we're almost there, I promise!  
  
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, real places, never been to them, made up details. 'Kay? Oh, and I honestly looked and looked for something on customs procedures at LAX and diplomatic immunity for foreigners in America, but came up with nada. So I made those up as well. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Author's Note: Eddie was the man who worked at the car wash in 'Replacement Killers'. He's also the one who gave John Meg's name and was killed by Kogan, Terence Wei's henchman/assistant. Big guy, suspenders, kicked the soda machine? Ringing any bells? He gets a mention in this chapter and I didn't want anyone going, "Huh? Who the hell is Eddie?" ;) As always, enjoy!  
  
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Chapter Twelve  
  
John turned to look out the peephole as soon as the door closed behind him. No one passed by, but John knew the man from the elevator had been following him. His panting could be heard a corridor away. John had sensed the man was unusually interested in him as soon as they entered the elevator.  
  
Who was he? What did he want? John sighed and turned his attention back to the room. He, Meg, and Mia were leaving Los Angeles. Tonight.  
  
Mia was asleep on the couch, the television tuned to a repeat of the evening news. John gently shook her shoulder. She rolled over and blinked sleepily at him. Her eyes widened and she sat up quickly, throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
"You are well?" she asked, pulling back to look at him.  
  
"Yes. And you?" Mia nodded. "Where is Meg?"  
  
"Asleep," Mia replied, pointing towards the bedroom.  
  
"I will wake her. Pack your belongings, we are leaving as soon as you are both ready." Mia nodded and left him standing by the couch.  
  
John entered the bedroom quietly, closing the door softly behind him. The bathroom door was ajar, enough light spilling out to illuminate the room. John knelt by the bed, watching Meg sleep.  
  
She'd obviously had a restless night. Most of the bed clothes had been kicked off, the one remaining sheet tangled around her bare legs. Lying on her stomach, one arm was under the pillow, the other bent at her side, fingers curled under her chin.  
  
John lifted his hand, hesitating a moment before brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. There was a rustle of sheets and he felt sharp metal against his neck.  
  
"Don't move." He suddenly realized that while he could see her well enough, he was backlit from the bathroom, leaving his face in shadow. He remained still until Meg managed to switch the bedside lamp on. Both blinked from the sudden brightness. "Jesus, John," Meg said, stifling a yawn with her hand, which was holding a knife. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on a girl like that?" John stood and backed away.  
  
"I'm sorry." Meg shook her head and sat up, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed and rubbing vigorously at her eyes with her palms.  
  
"No, don't be," she said, combing her fingers through her hair. "I'm just really, really tired. And when I'm tired, I get cranky. Here." She patted the bed beside her. "Sit down." When he had done so, she looked him over critically. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're sure? I'm not going to have to pat you down or anything?"  
  
"I was not injured, Meg." She nodded, apparently satisfied. "What is that?" John asked, indicating the knife.  
  
"It's a Marine K-Bar, got it at a military surplus store. I thought it might come in handy." She slid it back under the pillow. "So what happened with Koy?"  
  
"He is dead." John didn't elaborate. Meg sighed and looked to the ceiling.  
  
"Why do I bother?" She then noticed the wooden box he was holding. "What's in the box?"  
  
"A gift," he said, holding it out. "For you." Meg looked up to his face and back down to the box. She slowly took the box from his hands and set it on her knees.  
  
"I can't remember the last time I got a gift," Meg said softly, running her fingers over the glossy surface. She unhooked the latch and lifted the lid. Nestled inside the padded interior was a brand new shiny Vektor CP1. Meg picked it up, hefting its weight and aiming at a vase of flowers across the room. She returned the gun to the box and closed the lid, then turned to John and smiled. "Thank you."  
  
"You are welcome." He wanted to say more, do more, but there wasn't time. Instead, he rose from the bed and turned on the overhead light. "I was followed to the room. He must have been waiting in the lobby for me to arrive. He now knows the room number. We must leave as soon as you are packed."  
  
"Why the hell didn't you say so?" Meg grabbed her suitcase and threw it on the bed, sliding the K-Bar into an outside pocket. "So what did he look like? Did you recognize him?"  
  
"I have not seen him before. He is very round. Reminds me of Eddie." Meg stopped tossing clothes in her bag and looked at him.  
  
"Does he look like he hasn't shaved in a week and needs his suit cleaned?" John frowned and nodded.  
  
"Yes. You know him?" Meg finished packing and reached for a pair of jeans.  
  
"Oh, yeah," she replied, slipping the jeans on. "His name is Steadham, head of security at LAX. Or so he says. He's the one Chien rescued us from at the airport." Meg began pulling her t-shirt off and John quickly turned to look at the door. "Shit, how did he find us?"  
  
"I don't know, but now that I am here he will make contact with Koy's people." Meg finished changing shirts and pulled her leather jacket on. She then took her new gun from the box, checked the ammo clip, and slipped it into the waistband of her jeans. The box was added to her luggage and the bag zipped shut.  
  
"Then let's split before anyone else shows up." They entered the main room where Mia was sitting on the couch. John checked the peephole, then opened the door, waiting for Meg and Mia to pass before closing it behind them. Meg started to walk towards the elevator, but John stopped her.  
  
"Steadham will still be in the lobby, we should take the stairs."  
  
"But we're not going to the lobby, we're going to the parking garage. I bought a car today." The trip down the parking level was uneventful and no one else got on the elevator.  
  
"If you were followed to the hotel, they will know what the car looks like," John commented.  
  
"Good point. Keep your eyes peeled." When the doors opened, John went first, looking from side to side. He motioned them out and looked questioningly at Meg. She pointed off to the right towards the wall and the trio made their way towards the Explorer. Meg pushed the alarm button on her remote as they approached the car. The SUV beeped and blinked invitingly at them. Meg walked around to the drivers' side door while John opened the passengers' side. Mia opened the back and stowed their luggage, then slammed it shut. As she circled the car, Steadham came around the corner of the van next to them and placed a gun to the side of her head.  
  
"Hands up." Meg and John made eye contact through the interior of the car, then raised their hands. Steadham wrapped his other hand around Mia's shoulder and walked them backwards away from the vehicle. "Okay, step this way." Meg and John complied. "If you're carrying, I want them down on the ground. Now." They hesitated. Steadham cocked the hammer on his gun. "I'm pretty sure I said 'now'." John's Beretta was dropped to the ground, Meg's Vektor joining it. While keeping the gun to Mia's head, Steadham reached into his pocket and pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. He tossed them to Meg. "Cuff his hands behind his back, you can do yours in front." When that was done, Steadham smiled and lowered his weapon. "All right now, much better."  
  
Mia, who was still wearing the heels she had gotten in Beijing, lifted her knee up unobtrusively. She jumped suddenly and shifted her weight in mid air, landing on Steadham's foot with her heel and twisting. Before he could respond, except to howl in pain, she turned and thrust her knee into his groin. He bent forward and she locked her hands around his gun arm, placing her fingers in certain positions along his forearm. She tightened her grip and his hand went slack, his gun clattering to the ground. With a push, he fell on his back while she picked his gun up and pointed it at him.  
  
"Where are the keys?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly and her hands shaking. Steadham rolled around on the ground, trying to give equal attention to his dead arm, aching privates, and stinging foot.  
  
"You bitch! What did you do to my arm?"  
  
"It is only temporary, the feeling will return in a few hours. The keys!" Starting to pull himself together, he stared up at her and grinned.  
  
"You won't shoot me, you're not the type."  
  
"Maybe not," Meg said, "but I am." During the commotion, she had retrieved her gun from the ground and now had it aimed at Steadham. "For future reference, the hands are ALWAYS cuffed behind the back." Steadham scowled, but he dug out the cuff keys with his good hand and threw them to Mia. She set down the gun and picked up the keys, walking to Meg. "Get John first." Mia unlocked John, who grabbed his Beretta and watched Steadham while Meg's cuffs were removed.  
  
"I am sorry," Mia said to Meg, close to tears and starting to tremble more strongly.  
  
"For what?" Meg asked incredulously, putting her gun in the waistband of her jeans.  
  
"I was not paying attention when he came up behind me." Meg scoffed and shook her head, rubbing Mia's upper arms.  
  
"Are you kidding me? You were incredible! That was amazing. You've gotta show me that arm thing." Mia didn't respond, just stared straight ahead and started crying silently. Meg pulled her close and looked at John. "She needs to sit down, I think she's going into shock. I'm taking her to the car. Can you handle him?" she asked, indicating Steadham. John nodded, casting a worried look at his sister before picking up both pairs of handcuffs.  
  
"Up." Steadham made his way slowly to his feet. "Move," John told him, pointing back towards the elevators. It was edging towards 1AM, so they weren't likely to encounter any other people. He guided Steadham around the elevators to a corridor ending in a door marked 'MAINTENANCE'. It was locked, but a well placed kick opened it. John pushed Steadham through first, flipping the light switch inside the door. The bare bulb revealed a typical array of metal shelving lined with tools and utensils of various types.  
  
"You're not gonna get away with this, I'm a very well connected person," Steadham spouted. "Do you know how many ways I could have you killed?" John had Steadham sit with his back to one of the units, then tossed the cuffs next to him. He paused as he heard a car passing by outside, then turned back to Steadham.  
  
"Cuff your ankles together, then your wrists." Steadham managed his ankles, but with his numbed arm he couldn't finish his wrists. John closed the ring around Steadham's other wrist, making sure he was securely linked to the shelf, then slipped the gun into his waistband and picked up a roll of duct tape, covering Steadham's mouth. He set the tape back on the shelf along with the cuff keys, then exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him. It didn't catch, but unless it was closely examined, nothing would seem amiss. Someone would come across Steadham. Eventually.  
  
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Another Author's Note: I could've sworn the story would've been over by now, but it keeps throwing me curve balls! Just when I think I'm ready to wrap it up, a new and interesting situation arises that I feel compelled to explore. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Author's Note: Peter Wei's wife and son, who we only see briefly in the funeral sequence of 'Replacement Killers', are uncredited performances. Neither the character names nor the actor names are listed at IMDB.COM or the end credits of the movie itself. So I made names up for them.  
  
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Chapter Thirteen  
  
As John turned the corner from the elevator alcove, the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks. A dark blue Lexus RX 300 SUV had been parked perpendicular to the Explorer, blocking it in. The car he had heard pass by while he was in the maintenance room.  
  
Meg and Mia were huddled together by the back-seat door of the RX, two men with guns keeping watch over them. A third man leaned casually against the front wheel well, elbows on the hood, ankles crossed. He was Chinese, around thirty, handsome and well dressed. And obviously the one in charge.  
  
"Mr. Lee," he called out, waving him over. "Please join us." John resumed his walk towards them, stopping a few feet away and turning to Meg and Mia.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"We're fine, John," Meg answered, her arm protectively around Mia, who nodded in agreement. John turned back to the boss, who held out his hand.  
  
"Mr. Lee, I'm Jeremy Zhao, it's an honor to meet you. You have quite a reputation." John eyed the hand, but made no move to shake it. "Guess I don't blame you," Zhao said, dropping his hand. "I'm here to take you to Mrs. Peter Wei, she would like to speak with you. My men will escort the ladies, you and I can take your car."  
  
"No. Release them first, then I will come with you."  
  
"John, no," Meg immediately protested. She started to walk towards him, but was stopped by one of Zhao's men, whom she glared at.  
  
"Meg," John warned. Their eyes met and held. She nodded reluctantly and stepped back to Mia, taking her hand.  
  
"I assure you, Mr. Lee, they won't be harmed," Zhao told him.  
  
"Then why take them?" Zhao shrugged.  
  
"Insurance. I know you won't give us any trouble as long as they're in our custody." He gave John a moment to absorb this. "Your gun?" John handed it over. "Now, the keys?"  
  
"I have them," Meg said, digging them out of her pocket and holding them in her hand. Zhao pointed to John.  
  
"He's driving." John threw Zhao a look, then turned to Meg. She handed him the keys, her fingers lingering over his.  
  
"Be careful," she whispered. He nodded and looked at Mia, giving her a reassuring smile. He then walked around the RX to the Explorer and opened the drivers' side door, sliding into the seat. Zhao gave some last minute instructions to his men, then joined John in the car. The RX pulled out and John followed.  
  
The drive to Wei's mansion was relatively short and they soon pulled up to the gates and then into the driveway. Everyone exited the vehicles and entered the house together. From the entryway, Meg and Mia were taken down a hall which John knew led to the library.  
  
Zhao walked towards the rear of the house. John took a last look at the departing forms of Meg and Mia, then followed Zhao. All along the halls, moving boxes were piled, bearing labels in Chinese and English. John read some as he passed by -- kitchen: silverware, office: computer programs, etc.  
  
They came to a stop at the doors to the conservatory, a figure visible through the frosted glass. Zhao opened the door and turned to John.  
  
"Wait here." He entered the room, leaving the door cracked. John could hear snippets of a hushed conversation, which began to increase in volume.  
  
"Jeremy," he heard a female voice say quite clearly, "please do as I ask." A few seconds later, Zhao emerged.  
  
"She wishes to see you alone," he said, obviously not happy with the idea. As John passed through the doorway, Zhao placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him square in the face. "If you hurt her . . . ." He let the sentence hang, his implication clear. John nodded his understanding and Zhao removed his hand, allowing John into the room.  
  
In all of his years in Mr. Wei's service, John had never been in the conservatory. Paned glass enclosed a space easily two stories high and the length of a small house. It was dark outside, but special lighting kept the room as bright as day. Row after row of tables were lined with plants and flowers, some he recognized, most he didn't. The air was redolent with intoxicating scents.  
  
Ziyi Wei stood at a table tending to a jasmine plant, dressed in a simple light dress with a dirt smudged apron tied around it and a pair of bulky gardening gloves. She looked up as he came closer. She wasn't much older than Mia in years, but her eyes seemed decades older.  
  
"John, it's been some time since our paths last crossed." He had, of course, had occasion to see and speak to her in the past, but rarely. As far as he could tell, she had always been more ornamental than functional.  
  
"Yes, it has." She continued with her ministrations, regarding him curiously.  
  
"Do you know anything about gardening?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Neither did I before I came to America. I was raised on a farm in China, did you know that?" John shook his head. "Yes, in a village outside of Wuhan. My father and Mr. Wei had business dealings, I never did know the details. There was a conflict, my father owed Mr. Wei money and did not have any to give. So I was given as payment. I was fourteen.  
  
"Mr. Wei's intentions were honorable though. I was sent to school, taught languages and manners, among other subjects. Botany was my favorite. My marriage to Peter was arranged and I came to live here. After Yuen was born, a male heir, I was left to myself.  
  
"The conservatory was empty then. I asked my father-in-law if I could use it and he consented. So it became my domain, the one area of the household where I held the power. I decide who lives, who dies, who will grow old, and who will be sacrificed for the greater good." With this last sentence, she pruned a deformed bud from the main stalk of an orchid.  
  
"I am sorry," John said sincerely, outraged at what Mr. Wei had done. Granted, he had never been a paragon of virtue, but taking a young girl from her family and forcing her into a marriage with his son was beyond reprehensible. Ziyi gave him a small, sad smile.  
  
"I should not complain. If I had remained with my family, I would now be an ignorant farmer's wife, no education and no prospects. And Peter was a good provider. But he was not a good person. Neither was my father-in- law." She set down the pruning shears and turned to face him. "And neither was my brother.  
  
"Rahn left when I was still a child, he had no interest in farming. He went to Shanghai to find a job, probably joined a gang. We did not hear from him often and I did not see him again before leaving China. When he came here after Mr. Wei died, I barely remembered him. He wanted to look after my business affairs, he said, and to take care of me. I had no objections, men had taken care of me my entire life. But he became the worst of all. He frightened me. I was afraid for myself and my son, afraid that he would kill us. I believe he would have eventually.  
  
"It is time for me to stand on my own. I am taking my son to China, where he will be raised. I would like him to be the first good man in his family. There are too few good men in the world, John. I will not deprive it of another. I have canceled the contract on you and your family. You should be safe now, at least from anyone associated with me." She walked towards the door. "Jeremy!" Zhao entered promptly and came to stand beside her.  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Wei?"  
  
"Return their weapons and vehicle, they are free to go." Zhao nodded and Ziyi turned to John. "Good-bye, John. I wish you a long and happy life." She made a small bow, which John returned.  
  
"Thank you." He was about to leave when a thought occurred to him. "What will happen to the plants?" Ziyi smiled and removed her gloves.  
  
"Whatever nature intends."  
  
Zhao led John back to the entryway, then down the hallway Meg and Mia had disappeared down earlier. The men from the garage were standing outside the double doors of the library. Zhao opened the doors, revealing a room completely bare of books. The numerous shelves were all empty, their former occupants packed in boxes. Meg and Mia were sitting on the floor against the far wall, eyeing the entrance apprehensively. When they saw John, they rose quickly and hurried over.  
  
"Are you okay?" Meg asked, touching his shoulder.  
  
"Yes. And you?"  
  
"Peachy." John turned to his sister.  
  
"Miasu?"  
  
"I am frightened," she said in a low voice.  
  
"So what's the story, John?" Meg asked. "Are we staying for dinner or what?" John looked to Zhao, who stepped forward.  
  
"You're being released," he said, handing John back his Beretta. Meg was visibly relieved and stepped up to one of the guards, holding out her hand.  
  
"My gun?" He merely smirked at her. Zhao was about to intervene, but John stopped him and shook his head. With her other hand, Meg yanked the guards' ear down until it was even with her mouth. "I'm going to say this once. That gun was a gift, it has sentimental value. Now a dickweed like you might not understand that, so let me explain it in a different way: I have PMS, I have yet to get more than three hours of sleep in a row, and I am really pissed off that 'Pretender' was canceled. Can I make it any clearer to you?"  
  
The guard winced and produced her Vektor, which she promptly snatched from his hand.  
  
"Jesus, everyone has to play king of the fucking sandbox," she muttered, stalking toward the front door. Mia followed after her in open mouthed awe and John brought up the rear. Zhao chuckled in amusement while the guard rubbed his ear and scowled.  
  
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Another Author's Note: Bare with me, we're really close to the end. I said that before, didn't I? Well, I'm pretty sure I mean it this time;) If you're enjoying the story, please let me know! I never knew feedback could be so much fun.  
  
Disclaimer: 'Pretender' is not mine, it belongs to 20th Century Fox Television [us] (1997-), MTM Entertainment (1996-1997), Mitchell/Van Sickle Productions, and NBC Studios [us]. I just needed something marginally nonsensical for Meg to say (sleep deprivation, you know);) Technically, this story takes place in '99, and I THINK 'Pretender' was canceled that year, but I wouldn't stake my life on it. Oh, and I would like to thank TNT for revisiting the 'Pretender' universe with their kick ass movies! 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Author's Note: My apologies for taking so long in posting this chapter. I actually had one done ages ago, but I wasn't satisfied with it. Let me rephrase that -- I didn't even like it. Trust me, it sucked. So I started over. But it was worth it, this version is MUCH better! And quite a bit longer (6 pages as opposed to less than 2). As always, I humbly place it before you and sincerely hope you enjoy it.  
  
P.S. Be forewarned, there is some major mushiness, as well as some rather hot and heavy action, at the end of this chapter. Nothing NC-17 (or even R, in my opinion), but it definitely gets the blood pumping.  
  
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Chapter Fourteen  
  
John hesitated as he pulled the Explorer up to the gates of the Wei mansion. He didn't doubt the sincerity of Ziyi's proclamation of letting them go unharmed, but years of mistrusting the intentions of every person he came into contact with had tainted him. He had come to rely solely upon himself.  
  
And now Meg.  
  
He looked over to the passenger seat where Meg was sitting. She was noticeably weary, but remained vigilant and alert. She caught his stare and gave him a small smile, reaching out her hand to cover his on the gear shift. She squeezed briefly before returning her hand to her lap.  
  
The gate opened and they drove through. It closed behind them and no other vehicle exited. John looked over again at Meg as she stifled another yawn.  
  
"We will stop at a hotel for the rest of the night," he said, already scanning the street ahead for appropriate lodgings.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You need sleep."  
  
"I appreciate the thought, John, but we don't need to stop just on my account. You tired, Mia?" she asked, turning to the back-seat.  
  
"No, but if you are, I do not mind staying at another hotel. I can watch more television," she finished excitedly. Meg grinned and shook her head, turning back to John.  
  
"Your sister, an American couch potato in the making." She sighed and grew serious again. "What about you? You had a long flight over."  
  
"I slept on the plane. I did not think anyone was there to kill me." This was partly true. He had felt safe enough to attempt sleep, but worry for Meg and Miasu had plagued him. Were they safe? Had his message to Chien come in time? His slumber had been restless and intermittent. Meg chuckled at his statement.  
  
"In that case, I'd rather just get the hell out of Dodge. I can catch a nap in the back."  
  
John nodded and pulled into the next gas station he saw. While Meg filled the Explorer's tank, John and Mia went into the store for provisions. John bought a large coffee and US atlas while Mia picked up some magazines. After paying for the gas and other items, they walked back out to the SUV where Mia joined John in the front while Meg stretched out in the back- seat, as much as her height would allow.  
  
John spent a moment studying the atlas, then started up the car and headed for Interstate-10. He proceeded east for the next three-and-a-half hours, occasionally chatting with Mia, though both were mindful of Meg sleeping in the back-seat.  
  
After crossing into Arizona, the first sizable town they came across was Ehrenberg. John exited the interstate and stopped at the first hotel he drove by, a Best Western Inn. No suites and room service here. The sky was just starting to lighten from black to deep violet as he pulled up in front of the building. The sun would be up in less than an hour.  
  
He put the car in park and left the engine idling while he entered the lobby to check in. He walked out a few moments later with a key card and the bill. He shifted the car into drive and drove around to the back of the building where their room was located.  
  
Mia shook Meg awake while John retrieved their luggage from the back. By this time, John was feeling the strain of the past couple of days with little sleep and even Mia was yawning. Pausing only long enough to make sure the door was securely locked, the trio collapsed into bed -- Meg and Mia on one queen size bed and John on the other.  
  
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It was well past noon before John stirred, apparently the first, he noted, seeing Meg and Mia still curled up in sleep on the other bed. He rose quietly, gathered some clothes and toiletries, and entered the bathroom for a shower. Mia had told him during the drive that she and Meg had bought him more clothes and accessories while they were shopping the day before.  
  
When he emerged, Meg and Mia were both awake. Mia was sitting up in bed watching television while Meg sat at the small circular table looking thoughtfully out the window. John smoothed Mia's hair as he walked past, then sat at the table with Meg. She turned to look at him as he settled into his chair. They stared solemnly at each other for a few moments until Meg turned back to stare out the window.  
  
"I hate the desert," she told him. "It's so dry and barren. I like humidity and trees." She looked back to him. "That's why I'm the only one in LA who never goes to Vegas."  
  
"Las Vegas has trees."  
  
"Yeah, but they're not natural."  
  
"Los Angeles began as a desert."  
  
"True, but there was still the Pacific ocean nearby." They slowly grinned at each other until Mia wandered over.  
  
"I'm hungry," she announced. "Are you not hungry?" Meg eyed her and then John.  
  
"There's an IHOP next door," she suggested, standing up from the table. "I haven't had pancakes in a while. And we can discuss our next move." They crossed the parking lot and entered the restaurant, where they were seated in a corner booth. It was nearly two and the lunch crowd had begun to filter out, leaving the tables on either side empty. The waitress took their drink orders and left them to mull over the menus.  
  
"So, John," Meg said, taking a sip of her water, "where to after this?" Mia looked up from her menu, interested in the answer.  
  
"Houston."  
  
"Houston? Why Houston?"  
  
"Chinatown. I know people there."  
  
"This is the Houston in Texas, right?" John nodded. "TEXAS has a Chinatown?" she asked doubtfully.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Huh. Learn something new every day." The waitress returned with their drinks and took down their food orders. After she left, Meg continued with her earlier thread.  
  
"So after Houston?" John hesitated, looking to Mia.  
  
"I am not sure. Miasu and I are in this country illegally. Forging documents for American citizenship is very difficult."  
  
"Try impossible," Meg interjected with a huff. "I've tried. Could've tripled my income." John smiled, then turned serious.  
  
"My other option is legal immigration, but the process can take years and acceptance is not guaranteed." Meg nodded and looked at her water glass. She ran finger through the condensation, making patterns. John could tell Meg was thinking something over and so remained silent.  
  
Mia turned to look at a family at a nearby table. A mother, father, a boy about five, and a toddler girl. The boy noticed Mia's attention and smiled at her. She smiled back. He then took his straw and removed the paper cover, scrunching it up and setting it on the table. He dipped the straw in his water, stuck his thumb on the end, and lifted it out to hover above the scrunched up paper cover. He glanced over at Mia to make sure she was still watching. Satisfied, he lifted his thumb from the end of the straw with a flourish and let a drop of water fall.  
  
As soon as it hit the paper, the paper began to expand and lengthen, like a caterpillar inching its way across the table. Mia giggled in delight and clapped her hands appreciatively. The boy smiled wide, looking immensely pleased with himself, and waggled his eyebrows at her. The boy's father finally took notice of his son's actions and smacked him on the back of the head, telling him to stop bugging people. The family soon got up from the table and left.  
  
John had watched the scene in amusement, feeling somewhat saddened that he had missed out on simple episodes such as this in Mia's life. Little things, really, but taken as a whole they constituted a significant part of her childhood and teen years. John was shaken out of his reverie as the waitress came back with their food and started setting the plates down. When the aroma wafted up to his nose, he realized how famished he was and dug in. Meg and Mia did the same.  
  
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After they had finished their meal, they sat back and took a moment to breathe. Mia placed her hands on her abdomen and groaned.  
  
"Oh, I am snuffed." Meg laughed and threw a wadded up napkin at her.  
  
"You mean stuffed."  
  
"Yes, that as well." They eventually rose from the table, paid the bill, and walked back across the parking lot to their room. Before they could open the door, the little boy from the restaurant raced over and yanked on Mia's shirt.  
  
"Hey! Wanna go swimming?" He was wearing a pair of swim trunks with whales and starfish, goggles with an attached snorkel, and orange floaties on his upper arms. His mother trudged up behind him and grabbed his arm with one hand while holding the toddler girl in the crook of her arm.  
  
"Nathan! That is very rude," she told him scoldingly, then turned to Mia. "I am so sorry." Mia shook her head and laughed.  
  
"It is fine, I am not bothered," she told the mother sincerely, then looked down at Nathan. "And I would very much like to swim with you." She turned to John.  
  
"May I? I bought a swimsuit yesterday." John nodded.  
  
"Of course." Mia smiled and turned back to Nathan.  
  
"I will change and meet you at the pool."  
  
"Okay, cool!" the boy enthused, grabbing his mom's hand and dragging her towards the pool area of the hotel. "Come on, Mom!" John opened the door and they stepped inside where Mia went immediately to her luggage and pulled out a white one piece swimsuit. She went into the bathroom and closed the door, emerging a few minutes later wearing the suit, a caftan cover up, and carrying one of the hotel towels. Meg opened the door for her.  
  
"Stay in the shallow end," she instructed as Mia walked out. "And wear sun block. And don't talk to strange men." Mia turned to look at her.  
  
"Yes, Meg," she intoned solemnly, then broke into a grin and raced towards the pool.  
  
"And don't run!" Meg yelled after her. She then closed the door and looked at John, who was watching her in amusement.  
  
"What? I can't be worried?" John continued to grin. "Shut up," she said finally, sitting at the table by the window. John took the other seat.  
  
"I am glad that Mia has someone like you to look after her." Meg shrugged.  
  
"I like her. She's a good kid. Which reminds me, we need to talk about that. John, I meant what I said literally. Mia is like a child, the same mentality. Don't get me wrong, she is a very smart girl, resourceful. What she did with Steadham was incredible, but being isolated with just her mother and monks for company hasn't really prepared her for the real world. Not in America, anyway." John frowned and looked at the surface of the table.  
  
"I know I was not with her while she was growing up, to guide her and teach her." Meg immediately shook her head.  
  
"No, John, I didn't mean to sound like I was blaming you. It isn't your fault. You were barely her age when you went to work for Wei and you did so to provide for her and your mother. You've always her had her best interests at heart. But she has a lot of catching up to do." John nodded and looked at her.  
  
"I know. What do you suggest?"  
  
"Let her go to college. Alone." John looked doubtful and seemed about to protest, but Meg cut him off. "Hey, this is the time when most American kids go out on their own. Get away from family and familiarity and learn to function on their own." Meg paused. "But maybe not right away for Mia, I think she needs some time to adjust first. We can talk to her about it later." John nodded. Meg took a breath and clasped her hands on the table, pausing even longer before speaking again.  
  
"I have a third option for your citizenship problem." John looked at her questioningly. She caught his eye before going on. "Foreigners are granted automatic citizenship when they marry American citizens. Well, technically, it takes two years after the marriage, during which time they must maintain constant cohabitation. I looked it up." John didn't reply, his expression unreadable. Meg started to get nervous, wishing she hadn't said anything. What if she'd misread his feelings this entire time? What if she wasn't even in the ball park? When John still didn't say anything, she unclasped her hands and waved them dismissively.  
  
"It was just a suggestion," she stated, getting up from the table. "I'm sure there are other options. You are a rich man, after all, and the American government loves money. Bet you could buy yourself a legit citizenship." With that, she turned away from him, opened one of the suitcases on the bed, and started to pack. For the second time in two days she felt moisture gather in her eyes. Great, now I'm turning into a cliche -- wimpy weepy damsel. Ick. She heard him stand from the table, but she didn't turn around.  
  
John crossed to her and put his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her to face him. She wouldn't meet his eyes, so he moved his hands to cup her jaw, tilting her face up to his. He frowned at her tears and brushed them away with his thumbs, then returned his hands to her shoulders and guided her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He pulled a chair from the table and sat across from her.  
  
"Meg," John began, "I don't want you to feel obligated to help me in this way." Meg looked up sharply at him.  
  
"Obligated?" she asked angrily. "You think I suggested this because I feel obligated?" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the bedspread, not really seeing it. John examined her bent head a moment before trying again.  
  
"I can't ask you to part with two years of your life for me." Meg gave John a positively exasperated look and placed her palms on the bed.  
  
"John, you didn't ask, I offered." She stood abruptly and began pacing between the beds and chest of drawers. "Okay, we've been tap dancing around this since the temple. I realize we've spent a grand total of six days in each other's company, I know that. I also know that we spent the year in between apart and I can't speak for you, but I was miserable. There was not a day that went by that I didn't think about you, wondering if you were hurt, if you were even alive . . . if you were dating." She returned to the bed and sat down to face him. "The truth is, if this business with Koy hadn't come up, I would've found another way to get to you."  
  
"I was coming to find you," John said softly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It is traditional to spend a certain amount of time in mourning," John explained. "After this time had passed, I intended to return to Los Angeles with Mia and search for you." He paused before going on. "I missed you."  
  
John gazed at her intently for a few moments before reaching out his hand to her. She took it and he rose, pulling her to a standing position. His eyes never leaving her face, he released her and began sliding both hands upward along her arms. Meg shivered as his hands continued across her shoulders and toward her neck. Her breath came faster, her skin flushed.  
  
John's hands had reached their destination and he began running his fingers through Meg's hair. She closed her eyes, relishing his touch and feeling major tingles begin somewhere in her middle and travel outward in all directions. When she opened her eyes, she found that John had stilled the movement of his hands and had concentrated the power of his eyes on hers. Not able to keep her hands to herself any longer, she reached up to place her hands on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat increasing beneath her palms and moved her hands down to clutch at his sides.  
  
John gently pulled Meg towards him, his lips slowly coming to meet hers. He hesitated just before they made contact, leaving Meg the choice to back out if she wanted. She didn't. She closed the distance between them. The kiss was tentative at first, but soon grew in intensity, their bodies melding together so that the sunlight flooding the room had to find an alternate route around the intertwined couple.  
  
Hands that had rarely come into contact with another human being due to years of mistrust and habit now roamed freely, exploring and caressing skin, hair, curves, and ridges. Wanting more of him to touch, Meg impatiently pushed his jacket off of his shoulders and yanked his dress shirt and t-shirt from his pants, placing her hands along his abdomen.  
  
Following Meg's lead, John pulled her t-shirt from her jeans and let his hands slip around to her back, tracing the line of her spine with his fingertips. He moved his lips along her jaw line while Meg nipped at his earlobe. When she realized her hands were making their way to the buckle of his pants, she knew she had to stop before they went any further. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed lightly.  
  
"John," she managed, breathing heavily. He stepped back slightly to look at her and she shook her head. He removed his hands from under her shirt, then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. Meg's fingers itched to touch more of him, so she motioned vaguely to the other side of the room. "I'm just -- I'm gonna --" She backed away from him and made her way unsteadily to the nearest wall, leaning on it. John lowered himself to the chair he'd occupied earlier.  
  
"So, can I take that as a 'yes'?" Meg asked when she could breathe normally again. John looked to her, mildly confused. She smiled and walked towards him, kneeling in front of his chair. "To marry me, John," she explained. "Will you marry me?" He raised his hands and placed them on her either side of her head, smoothing his thumbs along her hairline.  
  
"Yes," he told her, lowering his head to kiss her on the lips and then the forehead.  
  
"We'll take a detour to Vegas on the way to Houston."  
  
"You don't like Las Vegas," John reminded her.  
  
"I'll make an exception in your case."  
  
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Another Author's Note: Woohoo! Finally, John and Meg get to kiss! And other stuff, too! Honestly, it started out as a simple kiss, but quickly escalated and was soon out of my control. I don't know how it happened and I cannot in good conscience take any blame for it. . . ;) Anyway, we're not quite through yet. ONE MORE CHAPTER! The epilogue, as a matter of fact. We get to see what becomes of everyone. I have a general idea of the what, when, and where, but since I haven't actually started it yet, I can't say when it will be posted.  
  
P.S. Yes, there actually is a Chinatown in Houston. Just east of downtown. How do I know this? Because I live there! Well, in Houston, not Chinatown;) 


	15. Epilogue

Author's Note: There are only two options for American Citizen-Foreign National marriages. If marrying in the US, you have to file a petition with INS for a fiance visa. When the fiance arrives, the marriage must take place within three months and the couple must have met in person at least once in the two years before. The other option is to marry abroad and file a petition for an alien-spouse visa, which would start the immigration process and can vary depending on the country the couple is married in. ANYWAY, my point is that the situation for John and Meg isn't actually covered. He came into the US illegally. She can't leave the US legally. If I wanted to be completely accurate, I would've had to send him back to China, get a legal passport (which the Chinese government is very poopy about), have her file for a fiance visa, and when he FINALLY made it to America through legal channels, have them marry. And of course my attitude was, 'Screw that.' So I kind of fudged and glossed over it. Just an FYI;)  
  
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Epilogue  
  
Houston, Texas  
  
Eight years later  
  
Dr. Miasu Lee entered the parking garage and proceeded to search for her car. After another sixteen hour shift in Ben Taub General Hospital's E.R., the location of her vehicle had been deemed extraneous information and shoved unceremoniously out of her brain. She aimed her key chain remote around and pushed the button repeatedly.  
  
MEEP-MEEP.  
  
Bingo. She opened the trunk of her silver Ford Focus and tossed her long white coat in. Next, she removed her green scrub top and dropped it in a clear plastic bag where it joined another half-dozen just like it. Mental note: Do laundry sometime between sleep and work. Her scrub pants would've been clean enough for just the drive home, but today was a special occasion and she wasn't going directly home. Normal clothing would be required.  
  
She toed her sneakers off and stripped down to the tank top and shorts she always wore under her scrubs. She pulled a navy Henley over her head, slipped on a pair of jeans, and reinserted her feet into the sneakers. Closing the trunk, she circled to the drivers' side and slid into the seat.  
  
The car started up and she wound her way down to the exit. The booth attendant waved and raised the bar, allowing her to edge her way into Houston traffic. She headed north out of the medical district and hit Highway 59 going west. Taking the Kirby exit, she followed the road north into River Oaks, one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the city. She passed Roman houses with columns and clean lines, forbidding British stone castles, Mediterranean bungalows, French villas, and an assortment of varied architectural styles and mixes. No cookie cutter prefabs here.  
  
She pulled into the semi-circular driveway of a home with a distinctly Oriental flare and came to a stop. Pocketing her keys, she opened the glove box and dug around until she pulled out a small blue velvet jewelry box. She grabbed her bag, dropped the box inside, then got out of the car and walked to the house.  
  
The house was one of a kind, built to John's specifications. It was three stories, pagoda style, with a blue tile roof in the shape of a curving concave triangle. The open floor plan centered around a courtyard, enclosing a garden and pond. As was her habit, she walked up the steps to the front porch and rubbed the snouts of the bronze lions standing guard. On the left was the male, under his right paw a pomegranate, a symbol of power. On the right, the female with a lion cub under her left paw. Mia reached the red double doors, each decorated with eighty-one nails in nine rows of nine, nine being the imperial lucky number.  
  
She unlocked the door and walked in, her sneakers squeaking lightly on the polished wood floor. She stopped to examine the photographs lined up on top of the hallway table. John and Meg on their wedding day, taken with a disposable camera at the Las Vegas Wedding Garden; John and Meg in a hospital room, newborn Jin Na in their arms; Mia's graduation from A&M University THAT had been an interesting four years.; John and Meg back in the hospital for Alan's birth; and Mia's graduation from Baylor College of Medicine just last year.  
  
Smaller photos were interspersed here and there, social events, family vacations, Jin Na and Alan in various stages of cuteness, messiness, and general childhood mishaps. A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to find Ling, the Lee family long haired black cat, strutting across the hallway.  
  
"Hey, Ling, what's up?" Mia enthused with mock cheerfulness. The cat gave her an unfriendly look, stuck her nose in the air, and with a fluff of her tail continued on her way. Mia rolled her eyes, but didn't take it personally since the cat treated everyone with barely concealed disdain. 'Tinkling of pieces of jade', my ass, she thought, translating the name. Mia had taken to calling her 'Bitchy-Kitty', though not when the kids were around.  
  
A car could be heard outside and Mia moved to the window to see Meg's green Lincoln Navigator pull into the driveway. She opened the front door as seven year old Jin Na, pleated school uniform skirt billowing out behind her, raced up the steps and into Mia's arms.  
  
"Mia!" the girl cried in delight, practically squeezing the life out of her aunt. Behind her, Meg lifted three year old Alan from his car seat and came up the walkway into the house. Jin Na pointed to Mia's hair. "Ooh, cool. Just like Lola." Mia had a habit of coloring her hair outrageous shades to suit her moods. Her current hue was a shocking magenta, inspired by one of her and Jin Na's favorite movies, the German cult classic 'Run Lola Run'.  
  
"I can't believe you're the cool one," Meg commented, closing the door and setting Alan down, who immediately bounded over to Mia and wrapped his arms around her leg. "And I'm the fuddy duddy." Jin Na turned to look at her mother.  
  
"What's a fuddy duddy?" Meg and Mia exchanged grins.  
  
"Upstairs. Change. Now," Meg ordered, her arm motioning toward the stairs for emphasis. Jin Na reluctantly let go and trudged up the stairs. The women headed for the kitchen, Alan still clinging to Mia's leg, causing her to clump along. "How was work?" Meg asked, pulling bottled green teas from the fridge for them both and milk for Alan. Mia detached Alan from her leg and sat him on a stool at the breakfast bar, then took the seat next to him. Meg poured milk into a sipping cup for Alan and set it in front of him.  
  
"Busy," Mia replied, accepting the bottle Meg handed her across the counter and shaking it. "Especially for a wednesday/thursday combo. Some genius in a chemistry class at Bellaire high school performed an unauthorized experiment. Whatever it was blew up and injured about a dozen students. None were life threatening, but the one who did the experiment may be permanently blinded." Meg frowned and smoothed Alan's hair thoughtfully.  
  
"That sucks," she said softly. Mia nodded in agreement.  
  
"Yeah." Mia decided to change the subject. "How about your day?"  
  
"Remarkably uneventful. And Larry hardly slobbered at all during our morning meeting." Meg was a part time digital graphics artist for an ad agency downtown and unfortunately had Larry Petrie for an enamored co- worker. Mia had been a guest at the company Christmas party the year before and got to see Larry's devotion firsthand. Larry, all five feet- eight inches, bespeckled, balding bit of him, was a jingle writer. He'd penned a love song for Meg and decided to unveil it at the holiday gathering, thinking it an excellent idea. He was completely plastered, of course. Although he was one of the best lyricists in the business, a singer he most definitely was not. As he belted out his declaration of love, the crowd cringed, dogs howled, and champagne glasses threatened to shatter. Meg could only stare in stupefied mortification, John grinned in amusement, and it was all Mia could do not to burst into laughter.  
  
"He thinks you're sooo hot," Mia teased in a seductive voice. "Grrrr."  
  
"Grrrr," Alan mimicked, hammering his cup on the countertop. Meg raised her eyebrows at Mia and pointed to her son, giving her a 'Now look what you've done' look. They heard pounding on the stairs and Jin Na burst into the room a few seconds later, heading straight to Mia to pull on her shirt.  
  
"Guess what today is." Jin Na said excitedly. Mia put a finger to her chin and made a show of thinking deeply.  
  
"Thursday?" she finally replied. Jin Na rolled her eyes indulgently.  
  
"Noooo. What else?"  
  
"May thirteenth?" Jin Na jumped up and down.  
  
"Uh-huh, uh-huh!" Suddenly Mia clapped a hand to her forehead.  
  
"It's trash day and I forgot to put mine out." Jin Na stamped her feet impatiently and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
"Aunt Mia, it's my birthday," she intoned severely. "I'm seven," she added, frowning. Mia grinned and pulled the jewelry box out of her bag.  
  
"Ah, I thought there was a reason I brought this." Jin Na immediately brightened and jumped for the box, but Mia held it out of reach. "Not yet, wait 'til your dad gets home." As if on cue, they heard John's car pull up outside. Taking one last longing look at the jewelry box, Jin Na twirled and ran for the door, throwing it open and disappearing outside.  
  
"And she's off," Meg commented, taking Alan's sipping cup and placing it in the sink. She then gathered the tea bottles and dropped them in the recycling bin.  
  
John walked inside the front door, kicking it shut behind him. His arms were full, Jin Na held in his right, briefcase in his left. John Lee was an instructor in East Asian studies at Rice University, an Ivy League school, commonly referred to as 'the Harvard of the South'. His credits from his college days in China turned out to be transferable and he was able to complete his degree at Rice. He then applied for a teaching position and was hired. He was an immediate hit, popular with the students, and his classes were always filled to capacity.  
  
Jin Na slid down and took her dad's briefcase, setting it on the counter and hopping on the stool on the other side of Mia. John cocked his head at the sight of Mia's hair. She struck a pose.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"Interesting," John said cautiously, after a pause. "The bright blue was my favorite though," he added with mock seriousness.  
  
"Oh, yes, my blue period," Mia returned jokingly. "What WAS I thinking?" John grinned and kissed her on the forehead, then moved on to Alan, ruffling his hair.  
  
Finally he came to Meg. Mia never tired of watching them together. They always seemed to zone out to their own world for a few moments whenever they reunited at the end of each day. John ran a finger down the side of Meg's face and she reached up, joining her hand with his. They exchanged a brief kiss on the lips and then parted to acknowledge the rest of the family.  
  
The moment over, Meg went about putting food on the table while John when upstairs to change. The cook had already been in, preparing one of Jin Na's favorite dishes, chicken pot pie, of all things. When Meg insisted that Jin Na set the table, Jin Na announced that she shouldn't have to since she was the birthday girl.  
  
"And?" Meg asked, unimpressed. Jin Na squinted at her mother, gauging how serious she was. She finally sighed and took the dishes off the counter, heading for the dining table. Mia decided to help her, gathering cups and silverware and following along behind. John returned just as Jin Na and Mia put the last plate, cup, and piece of silverware down. Meg put Alan in his high chair, then joined everyone else at the table.  
  
The meal passed in companionable chatter, everyone seemed to have an interesting tale to tell about the day's events. The meal finished, Meg and Mia brought out the cake and ice cream, forcing Jin Na to sit through a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' before they let her blow out the candles, which she managed with one breath. Stuffed full of sweets, Jin Na was ready for her presents.  
  
A personal CD player and an assortment of CDs from John and Meg, a jade necklace in the shape of Buddha from Mia. Giddy over her new possessions, Jin Na took her spoils up to her room. John retreated to his office with his briefcase and Alan. He had papers to grade, while Alan had a stack of LEGOs to topple. Meg and Mia tidied the kitchen, then headed to the living room with more green tea.  
  
"I'm glad that one's over," Meg commented, settling into an overstuffed chair. Mia sat in the loveseat adjacent to her and grinned.  
  
"Just wait until she's a teenager," Mia replied. "She'll want a DJ, a pool party, and NO chaperones." Meg practically glared at her.  
  
"Hush your mouth," she told her, but then turned speculative. "Oh, God, in six years she'll be thirteen. In nine years she'll be sixteen! She'll be dating." Meg shook her head and sighed. She quirked a look at Mia, a look which Mia recognized. "Sooo, dating anyone?" The question all singles dreaded from married relatives.  
  
"Oh, sure, I squeeze him in between work and sleep, like I do everything else." Meg frowned at her.  
  
"It's not good to be alone. I know." Mia relented and smiled.  
  
"I know you know, but you also got incredibly lucky. Not everyone is."  
  
"No, I guess they're not," Meg acknowledged, holding out her bottle for a toast, which Mia promptly responded to.  
  
THE END  
  
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Another Author's Note: And there you have it. Too cheesie? Maybe. But I thought John and Meg deserved a happy ending, so . . . that's what I gave them. Also, I did it all from Mia's POV. Thought it might be interesting to see them from a third person perspective.  
  
Well, folks, it's been a pleasure. My thanks and sincere regards to all who left reviews and e-mailed. Your encouragement, praise, and criticism has been amazing. This has been an experience I will always treasure. Until next time. 


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